Secrets Don't Make Friends
by sayah1112
Summary: Tony Stark has a secret. Several, in fact. Outed to the world as an Omega, he finds himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. His only hope at salvation rests upon the strong shoulders of a certain Captain Steven Rogers. The problem? Rogers hates his guts.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:** For Your Consideration

Tony was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Which was, he thought with a bitter twist of his lips, the understatement of the year. Over the past three months things had seriously began to fall apart for the former CEO of Stark Industries. At the age of 31 he had been at the helm of his father's company for nearly a decade. It was a sad start, to be sure, taking over a multi billion dollar company after both his parents were tragically killed in a car accident. But the young Stark had managed to do it in stride. To some he was America's golden boy, but most people considered him a playboy. He drank too much, he partied too hard, he was too wild and unpredictable. His early twenties had been a string of bad press. When he wasn't making a splash across the headlines with his latest scandals, he was buried in work.

Work that he had to keep his involvement in a complete secret. There were a few reasons, decided upon by both Howard and Obie years ago, but the fact of the matter was that Tony Stark was an Omega. Omegas, he had been told since the time he was knee high, had no business in weapons manufacturing. Nevermind that Tony was an absolute genius, whiz, and could even give Howard a run for his money at the age of 14. Pretty early on his path in life had been decided. To the world he would act the Alpha. His Omega orientation would be kept secret by conditioning and suppressants that would hide his scent and Omega urges. He was never to reveal his true nature to anyone, and any work he did on behalf of the company would be done in secret and under an alias lest his true orientation be discovered and his omega status ruin them all. Because Omegas simply did not build weapons. Who would trust a rocket launcher dreamt up by a soft hearted omega? It was bullshit. Omega rights had made great strides since Howard and Obie's time, but they had both been stuck firmly in the past.

He had all but single handedly taken over the R/D department at Stark Industries and stunned the world and delighted the United States Military with his tech. Tech that might have had his name on it, but none of the credit was given to him. Perhaps that was what had rankled most. It was his genius that was keeping Stark Industries from failing, from going under. It was his tech that was wowing the world and winning contracts with the government. And yet the only accolades he was given was People's most handsome man of the year award (two years running, thank you very much).

Tony found freedom in his lab that he lacked everywhere else in the world. The freedom to simply be himself, his music blaring and new inventions coming to life beneath his fingers. Everything had been going swimmingly, if he did say so himself, until his old mentor and God father had tried to murder him and in the process put his tech, his weapons, into the hands of enemies. American soldiers being gunned down by black market Stark Industries weapons. Innocent lives lost and towns destroyed. No matter which way you sliced it, Tony was at fault. It was his weapons that had taken the lives of countless innocents. His name emblazoned on the side of those weapons that were killing the American Soldiers they were supposed to protect. He had been too wild, too carefree, too sure in how own genius and by far too trusting. He should have known better.

Putting Potts in charge as his acting CEO was probably the best move Tony could have made after he came back from Afghanistan and disbanded weapons manufacturing at SI. After everything that had gone down with Obie (the man who used to sneak him candy as a kid had literally tried to rip his heart out) Tony was finally able to focus on making the world a better place. Of course there was fall out with the press, backlash in the media, SI stock plummeted there for a bit, but Tony had been held back for years from choosing the projects that he thought would be most successful and with Obie out of the picture and Pepper at the helm he was free to work on what he deemed best for the company. For a while it was glorious. Tony could spend days, weeks, down in his workshop with the bots and Jarvis. He could focus solely on the things he was best at -which certainly had never been toeing the line and rubbing elbows with the upper echelon of society. He had no patience for his peers, no tact in the boardroom, or the endless press meetings that he was called to attend. Let Pepper deal with that shit. He could focus on trying to make the world a better place. Trying to redeem himself for the lives lost through his carelessness and naivety.

Things had been going well, at least in his mind. With Potts at the helm of Stark Industries they had been able to steer the company away from weapons development and towards more humanitarian technologies.

That is, until the late Obidiah Stane's last will and testament had revealed that Tony Stark was indeed an Omega. It went to show that Obie couldn't go to the grave unless he was sure that Tony had been utterly and completely ruined.

The press had a field day with that one. He had been raked over the coals. His every action when he had been CEO called into question. The merchant of death an Omega? Everywhere he turned his face was blasted across the media. The board of directors had been outraged. Even though it was the twenty-first century and Omega rights had come a long way from where they had once been, no one wanted an Omega in a position of power at a fortune 500 company. Omegas were supposed to be soft. They were teachers, nurses, artists, poets and creators. The only thing that Tony had created was death and destruction.

It didn't take long for his rights in the company to be stripped from him. Pepper tried her hardest to defend him, bless her heart, but the board of directors and their investors were relentless. They wanted Tony gone, or under control. Their lawyers had dug around and found some antiquated laws. Because Tony had lied to everyone about his second gender, he could be convicted in a court of law of breaking about a half dozen antiquated laws that the Omega Rights Movement had not yet been able to overturn. The board had given Tony a choice. Go to jail, or pick a mate from one of the list of bachelors the company had provided.

Tony ground his teeth together until his jaw ached with the stress of it. He couldn't afford to go to prison or to be locked away in some Omega facility. There were things that he still had to do, people that needed him, and he could not put himself in a position to let them down. So Tony had swallowed his pride and taken the list of Bachelors.

He knew that the board approved list of potential mates were all willing to work with Stark Industries to hobble the wayward Tony. His Mate would have his vote on the board, Tony's personal fortune (which was nothing to sneeze at) in his hands, and be able to either force Tony to create more weapons for Stark Industries, or stop him from creating anything at all.

All of his options were terrible. Tony went home after that ultimatum and straight into the bowels of his lab. He looked at the familiar and worn tables with the clutter of old coffee mugs. The scatter of papers and reference books that contained FIRST DRAFTS of potential projects. With a heavy heart Tony did what had to be done to years of his life. His work. His purpose.

He destroyed it. Once Stark Industries got their hands on his personal lab and notes, there would be too many conclusions they could draw that would lead them to places Tony wanted them nowhere near. He didn't want the bastards to have any of his tech. He couldn't afford for his weapons to once again fall into enemy hands. Jarvis and DUM-E were the only things left unscathed. Jarvis was incorruptible. And DUM-E? Well, Tony didn't have the heart to hurt the little guy, annoying as he was.

He had one shot at not completely ruining his life. He knew that there were at least 6 Alphas on the list that would use their right as his mate to strip him of his money and work. He'd find himself being put in charge (maybe) of the household and his only purpose in life would be to pop out little Alpha babies. But there was one name on that list that the board had put on there probably as a cruel joke. One name, one shot, of not having his company turned over to a minion of the board. One man who would never let Stark tech fall into the wrong hands. Captain Steven Rogers aka Captain America. There was just one problem.

Steve Rogers, rightly, hated his guts.

* * *

The board had prepared a ball. Everyone on that list would be in attendance. Perhaps with the intent to woo the infamous Tony Stark. Perhaps to gloat at the position the once powerful Omega now found himself in. In any case, Tony had eyes for only one person.

One big, blonde, stubborn asshole who was refusing to give him the time of day.

"Look" Tony's hand lashed out, curling across a forearm so broad that he couldn't wrap his fingers all the way around. He had to settle for clenching his hand in the fabric of Steve's tailored suit. For a moment he felt as if he were a small child again, tugging at his father's sleeves, begging for him to _just listen for a second. _It hadn't worked then, and it didn't seem to be working now.

"No Stark. It's not an option." Rogers jerked his arm away, turning those broad shoulders away and giving Tony his back.

Unfortunately for Tony's wounded pride, there was too much on the line for him to simply give up and walk away. Gritting his teeth he darted in front of his old nemesis, whiskey eyes snapping fire.

"Do you think for one second that I would be talking to you if I had another choice Rogers. Hey, no, listen to me." He said, side stepping into Rogers' path as the Captain once again tried to leave Tony behind. "Take a look around here Rogers. Realize who they have picked to partner me." Tony said in a harsh whisper, his eyes tracing the mulish frown of the man who held the future of his world in the palm of his hands.

"All of these assholes are willing to play ball with all of Obie's old supporters. You may not be familiar with them, but they are the guys responsible for Afghanistan and Iraq. All those missions you and your buddies go on-" Tony put up a stalling hand when Rogers' mouth opened to interrupt "yeah, I know all about those, that isn't the point. The point is the terrorists you're fighting against? They are armed with black market Stark. Industries. Tech. My tech. The tech I have been trying to stop from getting out there on the market. What do you think is going to happen when I am forced to mate one of these assholes?"

Tony stepped back, his hands fisting helplessly at his sides. "Look you read the contract. You know.." he swallowed quickly, eyes flashing away from Rogers' piercing blue. "You know that I won't have control of my accounts, my company. I'll have nothing except for what my mate deems it appropriate for me to have." He couldn't help the disgusted snarl that tore at the corners of his lips.

"You seem to still harbor some ill will there towards me Spangles. It's like 3 birds and one stone. Keep Stark tech off the black market. Have a small fortune at your hands to help rebuild your pack. Money to make investments so that they have a future. And get your old high school nemesis at your complete mercy - which is the last place he ever would want to be."

Steven Rogers stopped and regarded him fully. Tony could feel his spine trying to melt beneath the stare, not that he would ever let it show. As he had all of his life when faced with the penetrating stare of an Alpha, Tony faked it until he made it. His chin lifted and he met Steve's eyes boldly. It was hard to reconcile this man standing before him with the scrawny kid that he used to bully in high school.

"For someone who doesn't want to be under my thumb, Stark," Rogers drawled lazily, stance rigid "you do seem to be a little desperate. Afraid one of the other Alpha's are going to give you the comeuppance you so richly deserve?" Tony almost wilted at the thinly veiled resentment in the Captain's tone. He wasn't getting through to him.

Tony groaned, driving his fingers into his hair, tugging at the short strands in frustration. "Did you not hear a word I just said Rogers? This isn't about me or what I want. If it was, I wouldn't be standing in front of you. This." he said, taking a bold step into Steven Rogers' personal space "is about doing the right. Fucking. Thing. This is about innocent lives being lost if we make the wrong choice."

Rogers' eyes narrowed. "And what makes you so sure I'm the right choice, Tony? Maybe I made the cut for a reason. Maybe," this time it was Rogers stepping into his space, claiming the distance between them unflinchingly. Tony couldn't help but stumble backward, caught by a hard hand wrapping itself around his tie as quick as a snake and jerking him forward. " Maybe," he continued "it's about me watching you squirm. Making you beg. Because believe me Stark, I haven't forgotten what you said and did to me all those years ago. Maybe I do want you at my mercy. Maybe I do want you to suffer."

Tony swallowed thickly, knowing that he looked like a deer in headlights. But when Captain fucking America held you upright on your tiptoes to glower down at you - well, somethings you just couldnt hide.

"You want me to consider you as an Omega for my pack?" Steve leaned forward to whisper into his ear, his breath hot against Tony's neck.

"Get down on your knees and beg for it. Now."

Rogers released Tony so suddenly that he stumbled backwards in mute shock on his heels. He knew his face must be a mask of confusion. Everything he had heard about the infamous Captain Steven Rogers, everything he knew… this was just out of character for the boyscout, moral-oral, Alpha. And yet there he stood, strong arms folded across a broad chest and an implacable stare on his face.

Tony clenched his jaw. He knew that Rogers could make him get on his knees and beg, and then simply walk away. It would be no less than he deserved, Tony acknowledged grudgingly. He hadn't exactly been kind to the kid in highschool. In fact he had gone out of his way to make Rogers' life a living hell. It wasn't something that he was proud of, but Tony couldn't change the past. Any apology he would make now would seem flat and false. Empty. So he wasn't going to waste his breath with that shit.

The only thing that might work was proving to Rogers that he had changed. He wasn't a young kid who was wrapped up in his own ego and cruelty. If that star-spangled-asshole wanted him to get on his knees and beg for his consideration… fuck it.

Tony threw his shoulders back and met the Captain eyes boldly as he sunk to his knees gracefully in front of him. Tony knew the move was fluid and languid, as if he had practiced it hundreds of times. Because he had. One hundred times every night when he was growing up. He had been made to. Alpha in public but Omega at home. Tony was so fucked up it wasn't funny. It had gotten to the point where he didnt know what was a genuine facet of his personality or what had been ingrained there by Howard Stark.

The only plus to this was the sheer shock that flitted across Steven Rogers' face. A hush fell over the ballroom as people slowly began to turn and look at the scene unfolding in front of them. He could see Rogers' cheeks begin to pinken as the stares of hundreds of eyes found them, their curiosity piqued. Tony was used to being stared at. He was used to the cutting whispers and twitters, the looks both long and fleeting. This was the world he had been raised in, and while he didn't much care for it, it no longer bothered him. Nothing did.

Nothing mattered but keeping his tech out of enemy hands. Not his pride. Not his reputation. Nothing.

A gasp rolled through the crowd as Tony lolled his head to the side, jugular exposed. He knew that he was the textbook perfect picture of Omega submission. The curve of his neck, the cross of his ankles behind him, his hands palm up on his knees, legs spread just so.

Without moving a muscle, Tony raised his eyes to Steve's briefly before dropping them back down again.

"For your consideration, Alpha." Even his words were soft, deferential. Tony couldn't deny that inside of him there was a part of him squirming in humiliation.

Silence filled the ballroom. No one dared to interrupt the scene unfolding before them. The infamous Tony Stark. Strong, wild, headstrong Tony Stark being brought to a crushing submission in public. Not a soul in the ballroom would dare miss the train wreck taking place in front of them.

Minutes ticked by in absolute quiet. Tony could scarcely hear anything over the pounding of his own heart. What if this didn't work? What if the Captain walked away regardless of this display of submission? Despite everything? A true moment of panic struck Tony then, making it hard to breathe past the sudden lump in his throat. There were so many people who were counting on him. And here he was, despite his best efforts, failing again like he always did. Why was he like this? Why did absolutely everything he touched turn to such sh-

Tony was jerked out of his dark thoughts by a brutal hand in his hair, craning his neck farther to the side. His startled eyes flew up to the hard face of Steven Rogers, cheeks tinged just-so-slightly pink with discomfort. Tony snorted mentally at that. It was his idea after all. Did he think Tony wasn't sincere? That he wouldn't abase himself in front of a room full of strangers. Public humiliation was a favorite past time of the young Tony Stark. He had six sex tapes to prove it. Not that he was counting. Nope. And he was still waiting for the seventh and eighth to drop. But again, not counting.

"Get. Up. Now." Steve bit out tersely. Tony had to swallow the lump of nerves that jangled like broken shards of glass in his throat. Had it worked? Smoothly he rolled to his feet, short strands of inky black hair still caught captive in Rogers' steely grip.

"Yes, Alpha. As you wish, Alpha." Tony's voice was a practiced warm honey. Silky even with the slight twang of nerves that leaked out despite his best efforts. He had tried to force the words out sarcastically. That was not how they came out. Keeping his eyes down and averted like a good little Omega was a struggle that Tony didn't relish. There was nothing more that he would like to do than to look at Rogers' face and see if his gambit paid off.

"You have been considered Stark." Steve's hot breath fanned against his ear, making a shudder crawl involuntarily between his shoulder blades, tightening the skin there. "Have your contract on my desk tomorrow morning. You will deliver it yourself. We will go over my expectations then. Spoiler alert, Stark, you're not going to like them."

With that Captain Steven Rogers released him abruptly, then turned on his trim heel and strode through the stunned crowd like a hot knife through butter.

They weren't the only ones who were stunned. Perhaps as early as tomorrow Tony Stark would become the Omega mate of one Captain Steven Rogers, aka Captain America, who just so happened to still be carrying an eternal flame of burning hatred for him.

"Well, fuck me."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

The next couple of days practically flew. There was much to be done, and many kinks to be worked out. Tony had to tie up loose ends, trusting in Pepper to finish whatever he couldn't get to in the span of 48 hours. He hired moving crews to pack up his homes in Malibu and New York, and sold off the international villas and homesteads. He had a feeling with Captain America as his new mate there would be no need for lavish vacations. While he still had control of his accounts there were some things he had to take care of. Funds to be set up. Tony had to be very careful that those funds were no longer in his name and under his control. Off-shore accounts had to be opened and closed, money squirreled away for what Tony considered to be his most important charities.

And then he had to pack. Rogers had been pretty clear that Tony's lavish lifestyle was going to come to an end. The man hadn't outright said it during their negotiations, but it was there in the stern line of his jaw and the flash of disapproval in his eyes whenever they spoke of Tony's assets. So Tony packed simply. He brought only a few pairs of jeans, his favorite band shirts, socks and boxers, and the penlight multi-tool that Pep had given him for his birthday the first year as his assistant. And of course, Jarvis. Well, sort of. It was a watch that his father had given him for his 8th birthday. Tony had, of course, reconfigured it to suit his needs. He would be able to communicate with Jarvis through the watch, not to mention that it also acted as a homing beacon - just in case.

Aside from a few toiletries, there was no point in bringing anything else. He knew Rodgers would most likely confiscate it. 'Less is more' Tony scoffed mentally, throwing his duffel over his shoulder and approaching the town car waiting outside of his home in New York.

The contract had been signed on that first day. Tony had brought it himself, shame and embarrassment an oily coating inside of his guts, as he stood before Rogers with his fisted hands buried in his pockets. Rogers himself looked nonplussed. A man on top of the world, although a man who was currently faced with a task he found most unpleasant.

Yeah well, he wasn't the only one. Tony certainly hadn't asked for any of this. It wasn't as if he had put Rogers name on his list of potential suitors. But once he had seen it, Tony realized that there was no one better suited to keeping his weapons off the market than the man who was continually sent out to combat them. Rogers had a lot to gain from an alliance with the Stark name. Combating terrorism or threats to national and global security wasn't cheap. The man's pack was currently funded through the government, and under their purview, but surely the narrow sighted Rogers had the mind to imagine what it would be like to be out from under the government's thumb. Stark Industries stock, and Tony's own personal fortune, was a great start to independence.

Plus there was the fact that Tony had come out as an Omega to the media. He was now the conservative Rogers' Omega, one who the Alpha-ruled world unanimously agreed that needed to be put in his place. It started on day one. Tony fought the blush that wanted to rise to his cheeks at the memory of how Rodgers had made him kneel before him while he read the contract.

It was then that Tony had learned of Rogers list of demands. Tony was not to leave the Avengers compound. He was not to leave the pack house without express permission from one of the Alphas. He was not allowed access to any of his funds (this Tony had already suspected) and any money that he was given permission to have access to Rogers would have to okay all purchases. There would be no more smoking, no more drinking (gee, thanks mom). Outside communication would stop. Tony would not be able to call up Pepper or Rhodey, or call in favors. He was not to embarrass the pack in any way. Rodgers wanted no bad press to paint his pack in a negative light. They were the up and coming heroes of America and having Tony stain their image with his usual antics was unacceptable. The only thing that Tony should be concerned with was staying out of the way and earning his keep.

Basically, Tony was supposed to act like a 1950s Omega. Be seen but not heard, and keep the pack house spotless. Tony knew that Rogers was conservative… but even to him this felt a bit extreme. Of course, the Captain was probably relishing being the one to put Tony in his place. Tony had been a junior in high school when he first caught wind of the freshman who was making a name for himself. Thinking back on those times Tony mentally winced. He had outright bullied Steven Rogers as a kid. He had bullied a lot of different people back then, for a lot of different reasons, but Rodgers had been personal…

If Tony could turn back time he would have steered clear of the gangly, long limbed Rodgers, who had charmed everyone around him with his kind heart and infectious smile. But Tony couldn't turn back time, and he wasn't about to apologize to Rogers for things he had done as a teenager. Rogers certainly didn't want to hear it, and Tony wasn't going to waste his time.

But Tony had some demands of his own. Most of them Rogers shot down without a blink of those icy blue eyes. But there was one demand in particular that Tony refused to budge on.

"It's one day, Rogers. One day a week. That's all I'm asking for. I'll say yes to everything else."

Rodgers' eyes narrowed. "One day a week out of the packhouse to go into the city, Stark? You're yanking my chain. If I give you an inch you will take a mile. It would take you less than an hour to cause an international incident. No."

Tony's head snapped up from his submissive pose at Rogers feet. He would literally have to resort to begging. The once powerful billionaire CEO now at the feet of his high school nemesis begging for scraps… his father would roll over in his grave.

"I swear I will be on my best behavior. If I do anything to cause you embarrassment you can revoke my privileges."

"Once a month, Stark. Once a month we will drive you into the city for whatever it is you need. But if you act out in any way, disobey any direct order, that privilege can and will be revoked. If it's important enough to you, you will be on your best behavior."

Tony gritted his teeth. His heart squeezing painfully. Once a month? That was all the time he was allowed? He nodded his head, his face calm and accepting despite his inner turmoil.

And that was how Tony found himself mated. The ceremony consisted of him, Rogers, Potts and an officiator. Tony was given a mating bite high up on his shoulder, near his neck. Their relationship was, of course, not consummated. Rogers could barely stand to be in the same room with Tony for more than 5 minutes at a time. The feeling was completely mutual.

After signing the papers and placing the bite, Rogers had all but stormed out of the room.

"You have 24 hours, and then I expect you to be on your way Stark." He threw over his shoulder before disappearing from sight.

Tony didn't bother to correct him. Technically he was now Anthony Stark-Rogers, as stomach churning and nauseating as that sounded. Instead he turned into Pepper's embrace.

"Oh, Tony." She sighed, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close. He could feel the slight shake in her shoulders.

"Where are your felicitations? Those better be happy tears. It's my wedding day." This wasn't a happy occasion and both of them knew it. Pepper chuckled without humor, pulling back to look into his eyes.

"Does he know, Tony?" There could have been dozens of things that Pepper was talking about. Tony kept many secrets and Pepper and Rhodey knew most of them. But this needed no clarification.

"Nope." Tony gently chucked his best friend on the chin. "Don't worry about me Pep. I'm a Stark. We land on our feet."

"Stark-Rogers now, Tony." Pep corrected halfheartedly, reaching up to brush a wayward lock of inky black hair off his forehead. "I hope you're right."

"When have I ever been wrong, Pep? Did you just snort? You snorted. My poor wounded ego. I'll talk to you when I can. Keep fighting the good fight."

With that he pulled away, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and walked away. It was harder to do than he wanted to admit. He was leaving behind a life he knew, a life where he was in control of his own destiny, and putting himself into an old enemy's hands.

Tony leaned back into the seat, tilted his head back and closed his tired eyes. With his duffel across his lap and the weight of the world temporarily lifted from his shoulders, Tony slept for the first time in 4 days.

"Mister Stark, Mister Stark - we're here." The message was delivered with a gentle shake to his shoulder and a kind smile from the elderly driver. "You slept for the whole trip. But they'll be waiting for you inside the main house there."

Tony groaned, rubbing his eyes. It was funny that after a six hour nap he could still feel so exhausted and burnt out. Giving the driver a thin lipped smile Tony nodded his head and hopped out of the car, duffel slung across his shoulders and sun glasses firmly in place.

He could feel his pulse thundering in his throat. How many press conferences, media junkets, interviews, and speeches had he been to or given? He had delivered speeches to a stadium full of people before but nothing came close to the tight feeling in his guts. It startled him to realize that he was actually nervous to officially meet his new pack. For so long he had been alone. A pack of one with no one to answer to or worry about.

From his rather extensive research, he knew that the Avengers pack was both new and small. The pack consisted of Rodgers, his high school pal James Barnes, esteemed scientist Bruce Banner, a Russian spy by the name of Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton special agent and his wife Laura and their three children. Tony was startled to realize he was nervous to meet his new pack.

Maybe they were not in residence. It wasn't exactly a happy home coming, Tony thought wryly. He doubted Captain Steve Rogers was proud to bring back his oldest nemesis as the new pack Omega. Anxiety and nerves jangled in his chest anyway as he slung his duffel over his shoulder, thanked the driver for the smooth trip, and made his way toward his new home.

Steve Rogers lived out in the middle of nowhere, Vermont. There were trees in the distance that seemed to stretch on for miles. Tall, proud, maple trees, birch and beech trees, blanketed the hills that surrounded the property on all sides. It was summer now, and the world was a bright clean green around them. But Tony knew that come fall the hills would erupt into fiery reds, yellows, and oranges. It would truly be a sight to behold, so much different the the coastal vistas of Malibu that he was used to. The rolling hills around them leveled out into lush green fields that waved in the soft summer breeze. Ahead of him stood a two story log cabin, surprisingly bigger than most, complete with a wrap around front porch and several white painted rocking chairs clustered to one side. The cabin looked new, the wood still raw, the garden and lawn unadorned with flowers or ornamental shrubs of any kind, as if Steven Rodgers had just moved in.

As pack leader, Steve would be expected to have the biggest homestead so that he could host the pack in times of trouble. Luckily Steve's pack was a small one, and he was sure every member of it had their own room inside - even if they lived somewhere else. So in the event of an emergency or a meeting, no one would be forced to bunk down together. They didn't have to share space under one roof, like in days of old. Most likely, the rest of his pack had homes nearby and used Rogers' home as a meeting place.

Tony looked off into the valley before him, squinting to see if he could spot another homestead nearby. After close inspection there were at least two that he could see in the distance. Tony stopped midstride to take a fortifying breath.

He didn't know why, but for some reason his brain faltered, like a train stuck on the tracks. Pistons pumping, wheels cranking, but going nowhere. Out here in the middle of nowhere. This was a homestead. A home. Unfamiliar and foreign on every single level to Tony. There was no place for him here. He wasn't the homesteading type. He didn't know how to be a pack member, let alone an Omega of the pack. He had spent too long living alone, going his own way and barely seeing to his own needs. Pretending to be an Alpha. And now? Now he would need to pretend to be an Omega. But how could he do that? What would be expected of him now? Cold seized his lungs, sending shards of ice to stab through his chest. Tony could feel his shoulders begin to shake even as his world narrowed. Was this cold feet? If it was, it was a little too late for it. The contract had been signed, he had a perfect impression of the very-fucking-painful bite of Steven Rogers' teeth buried into his shoulder. He was walking into an unfamiliar place with people who would most likely hate him on sight. Hell, he didn't even know if there was a place for him here. Would he spend the rest of his days as an unwanted guest? Perhaps Steve would shut him away, locked in a tower like an old spinster. Oh don't mind the howling kids, that's only Tony the pack Omega, only good for his money.

Fear of the unknown had him frozen. It wasn't one of Tony's better moments, and of course because he was mid-panic attack he didn't notice when Rogers walked out the front door to lean against the rail post.

"Stark."

Like a light switch being flipped back on Tony turned his gaze toward the intimidating figure of Captain Steven Rogers. He was dressed in khaki pants (because of course he was) and a tight cotton t-shirt the color of gunmetal gray. He had one shoulder planted against the support beam of the porch, strong arms crossed over his broad chest, and of course that disapproving frown that Tony was growing increasingly familiar with was folded across his tightly sealed lips.

"Hey there Spangles," Tony gave a wink. "Nice place you got here. Got that 'Cabin in the Woods' vibe to it." At Rogers' blank stare, Tony continued. "You know, slasher film? Fine. Friday the 13th? Last house on the left?"

Steve sighed, that disapproving frown settling deeper and crinkling his brow, "come inside Stark. I will show you around."

Tony made his way toward Rogers, his hand fisting almost spasmodically on his duffel. He didn't know why he was stupid nervous, on the verge of a panic attack, but he'd be damned if he ever let Rogers see that he was intimidated as hell and completely out of his element. He knew that Rogers had expectations, just as he knew that those expectations would eventually be met with disappointment. Tony just wasn't the type. He never had been. His stomach knotted and clenched. Taking a fortifying breath Tony followed Steve up the steps of the front porch and across the threshold of the cabin. Into his new life. If he felt the walls around his heart harden a bit, well, it couldn't be helped.

The pack house was impressive. The ground floor consisted of a large family room with high, cathedral ceilings, complete with a couple of oversized plush sofas in beige and colorful blue and green pillows and a large screen TV and a gaming system set up that would make any gamer drool. The windows in this room were massive floor to ceiling monstrosities, framed by actual tree trunks. Tony couldn't help but run his fingers across the bark of the wood, impressed despite himself. There was a pool table in the far corner and a dart board not too far from it that seemed to be well used. The interior wall of the living room was actually a vast stone fireplace that was made up of giant slabs of uneven, mismatched, stone and shared a wall with the kitchen.

Oh, and the kitchen was a cook's dream. Large, with plenty of counter space and storage space, a walk in pantry, gas range and all the newest kitchen gadgets including a Stark Espresso Machine, and kitchen-aid mixer. Tony took in the warm tones from the rich wood floors, the mahogany cabinets and brown granite countertops. He especially appreciated the large windows that flooded the kitchen with natural light.

The tour continued. There was a good sized laundry room that was also the home of the majority of the cleaning supplies. A large dinning room that boasted a table large enough to fit a small nation. There were also 3 guest bedrooms downstairs which, Steve had pointedly told Tony he was not to enter, as well as a large meeting room chock full of all sorts of fun gadgets and gizmos. One wall was made up entirely of weapons for chrissakes, while the opposite was a slew of computer monitors. So far, it was Tony's favorite room. Tony didn't miss the scanner on the door outside. It looked like a hand print would be needed to enter this room.

"Ah, the war room." Tony had quipped, to which Rogers had simply arched one of those damn supercilious eyebrows of his. As his lips parted Tony sighed and waved him away. "Yeah, yeah, not allowed in here either. Got it, Cap."

Shaking his head, Steve led them out of the war room and toward the staircase that lead upstairs. Jaw tight, Steve led him up the stairs that overlooked the living room - explaining that there was also an indoor gym in the basement, but he would need permission to enter. There was a long stretch of hallway. Steve's bedroom was on one end, and there were two more guest bedrooms that were, unsurprisingly, off limits. Tony let out a sigh.

"This might go quicker, Rogers, if you just showed me the parts of the house I'm allowed to enter."

Steve turned to stare at him, his blue eyed glare like a punch to the gut with the barely concealed disdain burning there.

"Keep it up, Stark, and the only part of the house you'll be allowed in will be the attic."

A frisson of unease trailed up Tony's spine. He clicked his teeth shut, the prior amusement he felt bleeding from his eyes until only a mask of polite interest was left. Despite his best efforts his knee-jerk reaction was to tilt his head to the side, baring his neck to the penetrating stare of his Alpha. Tony tried to cover the movement by slapping his hand to massage the back of his neck in an aw-shucks manner as he hitched his duffel higher up on his other shoulder.

"Heard, Alpha." Tony gave a charming smile to the brooding Alpha who was staring at him with narrowed eyes. At least his gaze didn't seem to be hostile but more...measuring. Either way, though, Tony wasn't a fan. His stomach was clenching, squirming really, beneath that stare. Steve couldn't possibly know that Howard Stark had done that exact same thing to him when he'd been 17 years old. For more than 8 months Tony had been cooped up in the attic at his family home. To be fair, the Stark mansion was large, and the attic had been expansive. But to be without company, sunlight, or even work or school to distract him… Tony shuddered. He hated to be confined. Fucking hated it. And then the whole debacle in Afghanistan and the cave… Yeah, suffice to say Tony did not do well with small, confined, spaces of any kind.

Steve's lips parted as if he wanted to say something, then with a gruff shake of his head he turned, beckoning Tony to follow him.

"Here's the upstairs guest bathroom, you can use this one." Tony stuck his head in briefly, taking in the sparse bathroom. White tile, standing shower, toilet, and sink. The basics. He nodded before following Steve to the last door at the end of the hall.

Rogers hesitated a moment, hand on the knob and shoulders stiff as if he was debating with himself. Tony shifted nervously behind him. He was really hoping that Rogers wasn't rethinking that whole attic situation. Tony had to remember that he was at this man's mercy. And although from all accounts Rogers was a stand up Alpha and an all around good guy… well, their past was an ugly one. If the man wanted to throw him in a padded room in the basement and throw away the key he had the right to do so.

Clenching his jaw on his panicked thoughts, Tony resisted the urge to keep shifting his weight from foot to foot. He was thanking his lucky stars that his heat suppressants also muted his scent and those of his emotions when Steve turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped clear of the door way.

"This is where you'll be staying."

Tony's lips twitched upwards in amusement. It seemed that Rogers was capable of holding a grudge afterall. The room he stepped into was small by anyone's standards. If Tony had to hazard a guess he would say his "room" used to be a walk-in linen closet. There was a small, thin, twin mattress on the floor and a couple of built-in shelves that lined the left side of the room. There was enough room to stand in it, at least. With a shrug, Tony gave a silent Steve a small nod as if to say he wasn't expecting much else.

"Great. Thanks." He slung his duffel on the floor. "Is it okay if I unpack or?" Tony arched an eyebrow at Steve who was staring piercingly at him.

"Yeah, well, I guess I'll let you get settled in then." Rogers said briskly. "I'd like to talk to you in a bit about some household expectations. Go over things again."

Of fucking course he did. Man with the plan, Captain fucking America.

"Sure thing Rogers." Tony said agreeably, flopping down onto the edge of his "bed". "Say in," he glanced down at his watch "an hour?"

Steve nodded before walking away, his jaw tight and his steps measured. When Tony could hear his new Alpha walking down the stairs then, and only then, did he allow his head to fall into his cupped hands.

"Fuck."

Being a super soldier came with its advantages. So that softly muttered expletive still reached Steve's ears and made the back of his neck go hot and stiff with a strange mixture of satisfaction and shame. Gritting his teeth he walked toward the office, or as Tony had aptly dubbed it, the war room. He was struggling with coming to terms with the unexpected turn his life had recently taken.

There were few people in this world that Steven Rogers actively hated, and Tony Stark just happened to be one of them. As a kid, briefly, he had looked up to Tony. King of Trinity High School, he was rich, funny, and charming. He flunked every class he was enrolled in and yet the teachers and staff still genuinely loved him. He was nice to almost everyone… except, for some still as yet to be discovered reason, him. Steve had no idea what it was that he had done to Tony Stark. Maybe it was being a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks at a rich kid school. Maybe it was that he had been born scrawny and skinny and scrappy, an easy mark for most bullies. Hell, maybe Tony just didn't like his shade of blue eyes. He had spent enough time glaring in to them, after all.

It really hadn't taken long for Tony to make his dislike of Steven known. Being shoulder checked in the hallway, shoved into lockers, his books slapped out of his hands, his locker and all the belongings inside of it defaced… these were just small things Tony had done to him as a freshman _on a daily basis _. The animosity and bullying had only gotten worse after the injection of serum as a sophomore. He had shot up overnight, beefed out, and thought that Stark wouldn't dare to touch him then.

How wrong he had been. The pranks had only gotten worse. More dastardly. More humiliating. In the end Stark had humiliated him in front of the entire school, and then had the audacity to knock up Steve's girlfriend, Peggy. When he had heard Stark making disparaging remarks about Peggy, having no intention of making an honest girl out of her, Steve's control had finally snapped. He'd beaten Stark bloody up and down the halls of Trinity. And Stark? That crazy bastard had merely spat out a mouthful of blood and _laughed. _

Peggy moved away and not long after Stark was expelled. He had not cropped up until years later when he began working beneath his dad at Stark Industries. They said he was smart, graduated from MIT, but Steve doubted Stark even graduated high school. Those degrees had all been bought by Daddy dearest, always covering up for his less than stellar son.

How an honorable man like Howard Stark had begotten a weasel like Tony, Steve would never know. If it hadn't been for Howard Stark Steve would still be a poor, weak, kid from Brooklyn. He and Bucky both had earned one of the coveted SI scholarships. Upon meeting Howard for the first time Steve had had an asthma attack that had nearly killed him. Concerned, Mr. Stark had offered a new medicine his company was developing. It would be risky but it could potentially take care of the asthma, the allergies, and the illnesses that Steven was riddled with. It had done more than that. Much more. Steve owed everything to Howard Stark. Which was the _only _reason he had agreed to Tony's proposal.

Clenching his jaw he collapsed into his chair. He was ashamed of himself. Ashamed that he had spent the day cleaning out the storage closet and making Tony's new bedroom as sparse and uncomfortable as possible without crossing the border of down right neglect. He just couldn't help it. There was too much history there. Too many memories. Steve tried to imagine how Tony felt, but it was hard.

It was hard to imagine his high school bully as anything but an egotistical, snot nosed, Alpha. And although it appeared as if Tony was still the same egotistical asshole, he sure as hell wasn't an Alpha. Steve didn't know how he had missed it before. How the entire world hadn't seen through the smoke screen Tony threw up around himself. An Omega shoulder checking him in the hallway? An Omega tripping him? Pushing him down the stairs? It went against their very nature to hurt others. So why the hell had Tony narrowed in on him? Focused on making Steve's life a living hell and no one else's?

Tony had always been above the law. Brash and wild. He did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to. Even Howard had not been able to reign in the young Tony Stark. Steve's eyes narrowed. He wouldn't make the same mistake. Afterall, Tony was Howard's son and there was bound to be some familial love there. There was none of that between Tony and himself. Tony was going to find that his days of doing whatever the heck he wanted were over.

And yet… Steve lightly drummed his fingers against his lips, brow furrowed in concentration. There was something different about Stark. Definitely less hostile and volatile then he remembered. There was a certain...vulnerability to him now. Steve had never been a fan of bullies, especially ones that picked on the weak. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't like that this thing with Stark was turning him into someone he wouldn't be able to respect. He had to lay down boundaries for Tony. Had to make sure that by bringing him into his pack, Tony wouldn't ruin their good reputation as he did to his father's pack. But, he promised himself, he would try to be fair. Stern but fair. He would try to do better, because for better or worse, Tony was his mate now and he was stuck with the little shit for the foreseeable future.

Notes: Well, there it is. Chapter 2. Once again I want to apologize for any grammatical errors and reiterate that I, in fact, suck at editing/spelling/grammar. So... Thank you all for hanging in with me and reading. Your reviews mean so much and make me smile, it's fun to get the notifications and nerd out for a bit in the middle of the day. I was originally going to write this fic entirely from Tony's POV, but if I did that I feel like poor Steve would be so hated that everyone would come after him with torches and pitchforks. So, you also heard from Steve in this chapter about some of the things Tony did to him in high school. Makes his anger understandable, and something he is going to struggle with in the upcoming chapters. Please keep in mind that with young Tony, not everything is as it seems. He was definitely a mean little shit, but not a completely terribly mean little shit. :P I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes:** Welcome to Chapter 3! For the record I do not normally update this quickly - so future chapters will have a bit of a longer wait to them! Sorry!

****TRIGGER WARNING****  
This chapter contains some rape-y vibes. No rape happens, but the vibes are there. And strong. So please be forewarned!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter 3:

Tony sat back in the comfy dining room chair, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap, fingers twitching towards sunglasses he didn't have in a phantom attempt to cover his eyes so that the alpha sitting across from him wouldn't be able to see it whenever he rolled them. As it was, Tony had to keep a tight rein on his emotions and physical reactions, lest he give away more than he wanted to. All the negotiating had already been taken care of prior to the bite and signing of the paperwork. Tony understood what was expected of him, just as he understood that this was just another way of Rogers rubbing his nose in his new position. See? Rogers' eyes seemed to shine at him from across the large oak dining table, I'm in charge now and I can make your life miserable.

Tony clenched his jaw, back molars grinding together in attempt to stop the groan of frustration that wanted to escape. It was like he was back to living with dear old Dad again, from the stern disapproval and creased brow to the dictator like list of what his daily schedule was going to be. At least there weren't those damn Omega decorum classes, which had been inflicted on Tony throughout his teenage years. So much bowing and scraping. Was your Alpha angry? This is what you need to do to soothe that hot temper. Has he withdrawn from the mating? Here's how to spark his interest again. Gentle manipulation was what young Tony Stark had been taught. Ways to guide and shape events into a desired outcome. Speaking out and speaking up, of course, was never an option.

Was it hot in here? Tony resisted the urge to pull at his collar as a wave of heat wracked his body. Nerves. He was nervous. If Steve was anything like Howard, Tony's life from here on out was going to be hell. He barely concealed his flinch at the thought. At least Howard didn't have super soldier strength, Tony mused bitterly. If Steve were to beat him even lightly it might just land him in the hospital. Not that Tony necessarily thought he would, he gave Rogers and assessing glance, but the fact of the matter was that Tony recognized that he could be...well, Tony. Pushing buttons was just kinda what he did. Sometimes his mouth got away from him before his brain could catch up, and well, hell, it kept the boredom at bay. Something told him that it would be a bad idea to push any of Steve's buttons though, at least until he warmed up to Tony. _If _he warmed up to Tony.

"The team is currently on a mission," Steve was saying, finally something that caught Tony's attention, his cheeks were starting to hurt from the polite interest he had schooled onto his features "and they should be back in a week or less. So that will give you time to acclimate to your new routine. When the pack is in residence it is your responsibility to cook and clean for them. Three square meals. Snacks they can take care of themselves."

"You do know how to cook, don't you Stark?" The derision in Steve's voice sent his hackles up. Before Tony could say anything, Steve shook his head in a dismissive manner.

"It doesn't matter. There are cookbooks in the kitchen. Stick to the basics. If you put in half the amount of effort you put towards all the drinking and partying you like to do, you'll learn in no time."

Tony stiffened at the derision and condescending tone. "Listen, Rogers, I know that we have a rough history-"

Steve scoffed. "Lets not pretend, Stark. You're here today because I owe your father my life. He was one of the best men I've ever known. You can pretend all you want that it's about Stark Industries, but I've seen the footage. The only thing you fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on the wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

Tony's eyes narrowed his jaw clenching. Nothing got under his skin faster than the mention of his father. Yeah, Dear ol' Dad was just so perfect, and he had a collection of scars to prove it."I think I'd just cut the wire." his voice came out soft, serious, and tight.

"Always a way out," Steve scoffed before he leaned closer, elbows on the table and blue eyes cold as an arctic wind. "You may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero."

The control he had been clinging to so tightly for the past few days finally snapped. Tony's elbows thudded down on the table as he leaned forward in challenge. "A hero?" a disinterested sort of scorn laced his voice. "Like you? You're a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle."

Steve exploded out of his chair, muscles taut, hands clenched into fists. Tony stood up too, as if ready to face the challenge of an enraged Alpha.

"You have two options, Omega." Steve's voice was sharp as a cracking whip, "We can go down to the gym. Get you into some padding. Go a few rounds." The almost violet gleam in his eye showed how much he was hoping Tony took that suggestion. "Or you can get on your knees, right now." He continued, his voice quieter and deadlier than Tony had ever heard it. "And apologize for the disrespect you showed your Alpha."

It was clear to Tony that Steve had offered the second option more as an insult than anything else. Steve didn't think that Tony was capable of apologizing. And a month ago he would have been right. But now? Now Tony was literally living on this man's mercy. All he had to do was keep his head down, not make waves, and in a couple of years or less if Pepper had anything to say about it, the Omega Rights Activists would overturn those laws that kept him bound here. He could get a divorce, leave Steve and the Avengers, and start over somewhere new. Even if he lost his entire fortune it wouldn't matter. He could make it back eventually. He was smart. He didn't need a lot. What he needed to do was shut his damn mouth, play the long game no matter how much it rankled. It would only be a couple of years. He could survive anything that long. Hell, he had survived his entire childhood, right? Anything else would be a walk in the park compared to that.

A grimace contorted the planes of his face as he forced himself to take a deep breath. He had lived with an Alpha like this one before. He knew what was expected of him. He knew that any challenge would only be met with brutality and hostility. That was what Alphas were, all that he had ever known them to be. He could go into the gym, probably surprise Steve by getting a few licks in before the Alpha cleaned the floor with him with his superior strength. But where would that get him? He _needed _his monthly visits into the city, and he knew he didn't have a choice but to kow-tow to this roid rager's dream. He kicked his chair backward, sent it hurtling across the wood floor behind him. Satisfaction and anticipation gleamed in Steve's eyes. He opened his mouth, but before the Alpha could say one more inflammatory, degrading thing, Tony sank to his knees. Head bowed, neck exposed, arms crossed behind his back - arching his spine, gaze to the floor. He struggled to bring passivity and calm to his face, forcing himself to take even and deep breaths.

A stilted silence rippled through the room. He could hear Rogers' heavy breathing, the thrumming of his own irate heart beating against his rib cage. The humiliation that twisted his guts and threatened to rob him of breath. After a minute of weighted silence had passed, Tony spoke.

"My apologies for my insolence, Alpha. I will endeavor to make sure it never happens again." His voice came out toneless, wooden. Steve's sharp exhale was the only sign that his words had been heard.

"You're so…" the aghast exhalation was followed by a stream of vitriol. "Are you kidding me, Stark? What is this? Too afraid to take it to the mats? I always thought you were a bully, but never a coward. As if you would actually...Is this an Omega apology? You expect me to believe-" he came around the table, his boots polished to a neat shine entering the corner of Tony's field of vision. "That you're actually sorry? You can spout off at the mouth but won't bother to try to back it up. You think I don't know that this isn't some weird little mind game? Well guess what Stark, you know how a true Omega apologizes? With his mouth."

* * *

"...with his mouth." Steve was furious. Angry. And immediately felt like the world's biggest piece of garbage after those crude words left his lips. They weren't true either. Any Alpha worth his salt would be disgusted by what Steve had just said. What was happening to him? He felt out of control, volatile. He was mad that he had tied himself to this Omega, of all Omegas. He was mad that he had his childhood enemy living under his roof and like-it-or-not, was now responsible for his health and well being. He was angry that he couldn't be a better person and let the past go, let go of his anger towards the svelte man kneeling before him. Prostrating himself in apology and supplication. Humiliating himself so that Steve wouldn't… what? Kick him out? Change his mind? That wasn't going to happen. The bite was on Tony's shoulder, the contract was signed. Steve was a man of his word. But maybe Tony didn't know that. Tony didn't know much about Steve, or what to expect.

For some reason he just couldn't help but dig at Tony. It hadn't been well done of him before, he knew, to bring up the cooking thing. Tony had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, probably had a legion of household staff who did his cleaning and cooking for him since the day he was whelped. It had set him off. And then of course bringing up his dead father…

Well, Steve had never claimed to be perfect. Anger was still coursing through his veins, his hands were still clenched into fists at his sides. There was nothing more he would like to do than to thrash the hell out of Stark. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. Not when he was abasing himself like this. Asking for forgiveness for a fight that Steve had started. He needed to apologize

"Look I-" but Stark was already moving, already shifting. He crawled, _crawled, _across the floor to Steve, his gaze lowered, movements almost feline in fluidity, and the line of his stubbled jaw tense. Slowly, Stark reached up towards Steve's waist, fingers brushing gently against his abdomen as they unknotched his belt with a skilled deftness that left Steve momentarily stunned. Steve didn't have time to react. It happened pretty quickly, and to be honest, he was floored that Stark. That Stark…

A warm, callused, palm wrapped around him _there _freeing him from the confines of his khakis and then Steve watched with an almost horrified fascination as the back of Stark's head, inky dark hair ruffled in disarray, bent towards him. He could feel Stark's hot moist breath fan against him, the mouth that had previously been sassing him parting as he bent closer to Steve's cock, snapping him out of the stunned disbelief that had held him immobile.

"Jiminy -" He jumped back, ripping himself away from Stark's warm hands and hot breath.

"What the _hell _Stark!?" Steve yelped, stumbling backwards, nearly tripping in his need to get away while righting his pants around his hips. He zipped up and got the snap done, but the freaking belt wouldn't close now, Steve's fingers suddenly thick and clumsy. With a frustrated snort he ripped it free of his pants.

And that was when he smelt it. The coppery tang of fear. It was faint, so faint in fact that for a moment he thought he had imagined it. His gaze tripped over toward Stark who was staring at his slightly trembling hands. He watched the other man's adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Watched as he clasped both those hands together in front of him, fingers flexing, knuckles white.

"I'm… I'm sorry that I… I thought you said…"

Steve startled. He _had _implied how Stark should make his apology. Chrissakes. Disgust soured his stomach. Disgust at himself. Stark had been about to, was about to… Jesus. It occurred to Steve, suddenly, how much control he had over Tony now. How much he could hurt Stark, the different ways he could…

It had never occurred to him before, honestly. Why would it? Steve would never do something so despicable. So horrible. Force someone to...A frown marred his brow, his lips twisting. He wished it hadn't ever occurred to him.

But clearly it had occurred to Stark. He was just going to let him…? Well of course he was. For all his bluster, at the end of the day, Stark was an Omega. And although they had more rights and privileges and had made great strides since the 50s… they were still so very vulnerable. Steve guessed he had never realized it before. Never really had to face it. But staring down at Tony's bent head, tense shoulders, and the almost imperceptible trembling of his fingers, Steve was being forced to face it. And what he saw he didn't like it.

"So how do you want to do this?" Stark spoke softly, meeting his eyes boldly for the first time and snapping Steve out of his brooding thoughts. There was a steely determination in those whiskey colored eyes. A challenging expectation in his gaze. For a second Stark looked at him as if he really knew him, and that he was greatly disappointed in him. Something smoldered unflinchingly there. "Shirt on? Shirt off? Do you want my hands over my head or bent over the table?"

"What are you-" It was then that Steve saw where Stark's gaze kept dropping to, then darting away from as if scorched. The belt in his hand. He dropped it, the clatter of the metal buckle against the wood plank floor loud in the otherwise silent house.

"I wouldn't… I'm not going to _hit _you Tony."

* * *

".. I'm not going to _hit _you Tony." Steve's horrified whisper rattled around in his ears. His jaw hurt from clenching it so hard. His heart was pounding in his chest as if trying to break out and burst free. Tony took a deep breath, eyed the belt on the floor dubiously, before flickering back up to strong Alpha who was towering over him.

Sure, it was only day one. Not going to hit him. Right. His mouth settled into a mulish line as he turned his head away, refusing to look at Steve. Refusing to acknowledge what had just transpired between them. The word humiliation didn't even do it justice.

Perhaps he deserved it. God knows that he was no Saint. For a long time he had selfishly focused on putting himself first before everything and everyone else. He partied too much, and had too much fun, and he didn't care who got hurt or who had to pick up the pieces. He had been young, brash, and immature. Afghanistan had opened his eyes, made him realize that what he did affected other people. That he couldn't afford to be naive. His naivety and immaturity had cost people, good people, their lives.

And dammit, Rogers… well, he had tortured that kid in high school. God how he had hated him. So if Rogers wanted to get back at him a little bit, rough him up - humiliate him… who was he to complain really? The legislative process could be pretty slow, but times they were a-changin' and he wouldn't be forced to be here too much longer. For two years he had made Rogers' life a living hell. Purposefully. Deliberately. Seemed only fair that Rogers got the chance to do the same.

"Permission to be dismissed, Alpha?" Tony spat the words at the floor, refusing to look at Steve. At the wide blue eyes filled with disgust and shock.

"I, hey, no lets… get up." A strong hand cupped his elbow, pulling him up from his painful kneeling position. Tony couldn't help the reflexive jerk backwards, ripping his elbow out of Rogers' grasp. Instead of admonishing him like his father would have done, Steve merely lifted both hands up in a placating gesture.

"I know… we went over some, uh, household expectations but… here sit down, we can, we _should _, talk about what happened here."

Tony's jaw felt tight. His entire body was lined with tension. Rogers wanted to talk about it? Great. This was just great.

Tony grabbed the chair and sank down into it, one leg slung over the other, his arms crossed over his chest tightly. He knew what his body posture said, would know that Steve would be able to see it, and yet he still couldn't help it. He wanted to get the fuck out of here, away from Steve. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

Steve sighed, fingers tunneling through his short honeyed locks, before turning to regard Tony with those piercing blue eyes.

"Listen. I'm not… I've never had an Omega before. I mean, around. In the house or… I'm just not used to this. To you." Steve stuttered. Normally Tony would find that amusing, a man known for his inspiring speeches stuttering through whatever the hell this was, but all he wanted right now was to get the fuck out of this room. As far from what had just transpired as humanly possible.

Steve took a fortifying breath. "I don't know what you've been through, or experienced in the past, but I'm not going to beat you Tony. I don't much care for bullies and…" Steve paused, his jaw tight. "I'm sorry I started that argument with you too. The things I said about Omegas… they weren't true and it wasn't fair of me."

Surprise flickered briefly across Tony's face before he could shut it down, close it off.

"I don't want us to be at war constantly." Steve continued on a pained sigh. "I know we don't like each other very much, but maybe we can still make this work. I'm not going to lie to you, I would never have chosen you as a partner if not for the, uh, extenuating circumstances. We are bound to get into disagreements… but I would never _beat _you, Stark. I don't hold with that sort of thing. And I'm not going to ask you...ask you for favors that you aren't willing to give. I would never do that."

Tony's eyes narrowed and despite himself he could feel his temper flare up hot and sharp and choking in his chest.

"But you did. You did ask me." He snapped, and watched as Steve's head jerked backward as if he had been physically slapped. "And you won't beat me for speaking my mind, sure. It's okay if I'm wearing padding though. Wanna go a few rounds in the gym, super soldier? Really show your Omega who is the boss?" Tony bit off, teeth clacking together.

Steve didn't say anything. He sat quietly, eyes solemn, and full of pained regard.

"Permission to go to my room, Alpha?" More like permission to get the fuck away from you and your lies?

Steve sighed. "Yeah, of course you can go." Tony snorted. As if Steve had not stopped him from leaving earlier. The man was full of contradictions. He didnt bother to point that out. Tony shot up from his chair. He didn't care that he looked like a wounded thing, tail tucked between his legs as he walked quickly from the room and up the stairs to his small bedroom at the back of the house.

* * *

He closed the door to his room, forehead pressed against the wood and took gulping breaths to try to calm his racing heart. He should have known this was going to be difficult. Nothing in his life had ever been easy, had it? These mind games Rogers was playing…

Doubt prickled at the back of his mind. Rogers wasn't the sort to play mind games. The man was usually calm and collected, steady under pressure, and his temper was generally slow to ignite. But when a spark landed on that tinder, it burned bright and hot and absolutely smoldered. It was possible that the Captain was being honest when he said he had no intention of beating him. No intention of eliciting sexual favors from Tony. It was entirely possible that his temper got away with him, it wasn't as if Tony acted like a typical Omega all the time either. It could confuse boundaries, blur lines. A ruddy blush burned its way up his neck and to his cheeks. He had crawled on the floor, the perfect submissive omega, had put his hands on Steve's dick and had been this close to wrapping his lips around it. Not many men would have stopped Tony from completing that service. To have your enemy's lips wrapped around your dick, at your complete mercy? To be able to humiliate them that way? Steve had seemed shocked, disgusted…

Was that it? Was Tony so abhorrent to him? Or the act itself? Perhaps, Tony mused with a self deprecating laugh, it was a mixture of both. Now he was wondering if he should take Rogers at face value and trust that he meant what he said. That there would be no corporal punishment, no rape.

Tony turned away from the door, and wrapped his arms around himself in a comforting gesture, as he padded over toward his bed. Toeing his shoes off, Tony collapsed onto the thin mattress with the scratchy thin sheets. He was so god damned tired. Closing his eyes he turned onto his back, forcing his thoughts away from everything that had occurred down stairs. He wouldn't think about anything. He wouldn't.

It was a long time before Tony fell asleep that night.

Notes: Ooof, that Chapter hit me right in the feels. Hope you guys don't hate me for it! I'd also like to reiterate that editing and grammar isn't really a thing I excel at so... please forgive me, I know not what I do. Thank you all for your lovely comments and the kudos! I love geeking out with you!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Tony was up early the next morning, and not by choice. He had set the alarm on his watch to match the schedule Rogers had given him, which he had scratched down onto a little slip of paper and shoved into his pocket. With a jaw cracking yawn he rolled out of bed, rubbing at the slightly chilled flesh of his arms. It would have been nice to have a blanket, but after the night he had, he wasn't up to asking Rogers for anything. Not even the basic amenities. He didn't know if Rogers had withheld the blanket on purpose and it was one of those situations where good behavior would earn him basic human privileges, or if it was just a simple oversight. To be honest, he really didn't want to know. Massaging the back of his neck he stood up, not bothering to change his clothes, Tony slipped out of his room and down the hallway. Nothing happened in his day until he had a cup of coffee in his hand. Bleary eyed, he padded softly downstairs, mindful to be quiet in case the Captain was sleeping. The last thing Tony wanted was a confrontation with Rogers before his requisite 2 cups of morning coffee. Tony was not exactly what one would call a morning person.

Rhodey had teased him mercilessly in college about his need for coffee, had even gotten him a mug as big as his head that read "No talkie before coffee". It had been nice, Tony mused fondly, to have a friend. One who saw and knew his true self. Being a 13 year old on a college campus had been...awkward and alienating. Luckily he had made a friend in Rhodey, and the old Sourpatch hadn't been able to shake him since. Tony scratched the stubble on his jaw. Colonel Rhodes was not going to be happy when he got back from deployment and found out about Tony's mating to Steve. He was out of the country on a top secret mission. Blah blah blah. Something about a terrorist organization. Tony wasn't worried for his friend, he was -after all- rocking War Machine.

Everyone assumed that Yinsen had been the one to build and design the suit that saved Tony's life all those years ago in Afghanistan. He had, after all, spent a lifetime cultivating an image of a womanizing partier who rarely took anything seriously - including his education. When asked about it, and about the identity of Iron Man, Tony would smile vapidly into the camera and admit that he had been instrumental to the making of Iron man; he had the very important task of picking out the color of the suit. His idea. Red and gold, wasn't that flashy? Probably the most important part, right? As far as who piloted the suit? Well someone much smarter than him, that was for sure. One of the scientists at the lab who wished his identity to remain a secret. You know how it is. He'd smile and shrug, turn to watch with the crowd as Iron Man cut through the sky above them all.

Rhodey told him he played the part of a self absorbed, none too bright, Alpha a little too well. Tony had a lot of practice over the years hiding who he was, his true self, from the public and acquaintances. He wasn't allowed to show the sharp and cutting intellect behind the facade his father had demanded he erect. The reasoning being that if anyone ever found out that he was an Omega, every project he had ever worked on would be questioned. They'd lose funding, supporters. It absolutely rankled that Howard had been right. Look at what had happened to him now, for chrissakes. He wasn't even CEO of the company anymore and that hadn't been enough to keep the sharks at bay. They had been out for blood.

Rhodey of course knew the truth. There weren't many secrets that Tony kept from his good friend.

Tony stumbled around down stairs in the dark, having not paid attention to where any of the light switches were during the infamous tour yesterday. When he stubbed his toe on the corner of a chair while passing through the dining room, Tony blew out a frustrated breath and muffled a curse. He missed Jarvis. With an AI in charge of the household there was no such thing as stumbling around in the dark or brewing his own coffee.

It took a few minutes for Tony to familiarize himself with Steve's kitchen. He felt like a thief rifling through the cabinets at the ass crack of dawn, trying not to be too loud lest he wake sleeping beauty. The need for coffee thrummed in his brain, pulsing and pushing at his temples. When he found the coffee beans a delighted sigh left his lips. At least he knew how to work the espresso maker/coffee machine. He had designed this particular model himself, afterall, only last year.

With the rich, heady, smell of coffee brewing in the air, Tony leaned against the counter and gazed out the window. A soft orange glow was spreading across the horizon as the sun began its ascent in the sky. Fog rolled across the grass in the distance, almost obscuring the mountains from view. The hiking here must be nice, Tony mused, if one was into that sort of thing. Outdoor activities weren't exactly his style. Tony much preferred his shop with the sweet sound of AC/DC blasting in his eardrums while he worked on an engine or one of his inventions. Something real, something tangible, that he could fix. Improve. Make better. If he closed his eyes he could still see the workshop, smell the stale coffee and grease. Tony was never more comfortable than when he had a tool in his hand. This? This domestic...farm life? It wasn't for him.

Turning from the window he rubbed at his burning eyes, fishing out a mug from the cabinet where he had found them earlier. Plain white, all of them, no funny catch phrases or irony here. No cartoon characters of puppy dogs or even a "I went to New York and all I got was this lousy mug". As a matter of fact, the entire house was like those plain coffee mugs. Sure, it looked nice, but it almost seemed… unfinished. There were no personal touches, no framed photographs, nothing to give a clue into the psyche of the person who lived here. It was like bran cereal. Oatmeal.

Speaking of food, Tony eyed the fridge dubiously. It was his responsibility to make breakfast. His lips twerked upward in wry amusement as his gaze alighted on a small stack of cookbooks set out on the island. Cooking for Dummies. The Joy of Cooking. How to Cook Everything. The Flavor Bible. With a huff he turned his back to the stack of books and faced the coffee maker. Poured himself a cup and took that first glorious sip of coffee. He went from running a multi-billion dollar company, heading the R/D department, to being a glorified housekeep. He had left his work behind, all those unfinished formulas and prototypes, so that he could make Captain America breakfast and clean his tighty whities.

Joy of joys.

After his second cup, Tony turned back to the fridge. Captain America wanted breakfast? Well, that was what he was going to get.

* * *

Steve came in through the front door, sweat beading across his forehead, clinging sticky to his shirt on his back and chest. Every morning before the sun rose he went out for a run. There was something infinitely peaceful about running through the countryside, the coarse dirt road slapping beneath the relentless tred of his sneakers, the quiet stillness in the air heavy as the rest of the world slumbered on . He took a deep breath, still slightly winded from his 10 mile run, and made his way into the kitchen. Immediately his nose wrinkled as the smell of...burning? … filled the air. His eyes watered and he resisted the urge to sneeze as he rounded the corner and saw the slight figure of none other than Tony scurrying across the kitchen with a smoking pan in one hand. Steve watched in a sort of horrified fascination as Stark threw the pan into a sink full of water, yelping as it hissed and spit.

"Well, there goes the bacon!" there was a muffled curse. His gaze fell to the cookbooks that had been left out, all of them open and in various states of disarray. There was a stalk of celery sticking out of the Cooking for Dummies. It looked as if Stark was using it as a bookmark.

"Shit, shit, shit," Tony was cursing to himself, his back to Steve, waving his hand in the air before plunging it beneath a stream of what Steve assumed was cold water coming out of the tap.

Concerned, Steve stepped forward. He must have made some sort of noise because Tony shot him a look over his shoulder.

"Ah, the prodigal Alpha returns! Morning Spangles. Eggs are on the table. Scrambled. I was trying to make an omelette but well, now we're having scrambled eggs." He fluttered his eyelashes, his whiskey eyes lacking the warmth the tone of his voice employed.

"Bacons, uh, well. Bacon is soggy, if you want some. Not sure I'd really recommend it." His free hand plunged into the soapy, water filled, sink and fished out a blackened piece of bacon.

Steve felt the corner of his lips twitching as he nodded with forced solemnity. "I think I'll pass on the bacon." he said, proud of the evenness of his voice. "Thank you for making breakfast, Tony. How's that hand?"

Surprise flickered across the smaller man's face. "Ah this? It's fine, just fine. Do you want water? I made orange juice. Think you might need a new blender though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, had a tough time getting through those oranges. The juice is a little chunky but…" Tony gave a helpless shrug.

"You… you put unpeeled oranges in the blender?"

Confusion puckered his brow. "Well of course I...was I supposed to peel them? I swear the recipe didn't call for that." He turned, dripping water across the kitchen, water in the sink still running, as he grabbed the nearest cookbook.

"Oh geez, looks like you're right, Rogers. I was supposed to peel them first."

Steve took a deep breath, forcing himself not to laugh or sigh at the absurdity that was Tony Stark. What had he been expecting, really?

"It's okay, Tony. You'll get it next time." Steve walked over to the sink and turned the water off then turned back toward Tony, who seemed to be side eyeing him. Yeah, after losing his temper in such a colaselly stupid way last night, Steve couldnt really blame the guy.

"Sorry about the waste, with the oranges I mean," Tony stammered nervously, bottom lip jutting out just the tiniest bit, "I made an extra big batch because I figured you could have some tomorrow too."

"It's okay, Tony."

"I mean, 15 oranges seemed like a lot at the time but the blender seemed to do okay with it until well, it didn't."

Steve didn't bother to point out that orange juice was usually made by hand or with a juicer, not a blender. He eyed the orange rind speckled piece of machinery sitting next to the sink and again had to hold back a smile. Tony was awful at cooking, clueless really, but he was being so earnest that it was… well, almost endearing. Almost.

"It's okay, Tony. I'll just have coffee."

"I've got a mug set out on the table for you there. Wasn't sure how you took it though, so its just black but if you want cream or sugar-"

"Black is fine. Thank you Tony."

"You're welcome. I'm going to go get a start on the rest of the list. Maybe take a shower first if that's alright?"

Guilt prickled across the nape of his neck. Soured slightly in his stomach.

"Of course it's alright, Tony."

"Awesome. Thanks boss." He said sardonically. " Enjoy your breakfast!" And then Tony was gone. Darting out of the kitchen and thundering up the stairs toward the small guest bathroom.  
Shaking his head, Steve made his way into the dining room where a plate of slightly charred (how does one burn scrambled eggs?) and chunky scrambled eggs sat waiting for him. He took a bite, groaned, and discretely spit it back out. Rubbery. And was that a cube of raw carrot in there? He took a sip of the coffee to wash out the taste of burnt egg and nearly gagged at the bitter taste and coffee grounds.

That was awful. Truly awful. Steve frowned down at the plate and the coffee and sighed. Maybe he needed to look into buying cereal. You can't burn cereal. He could only imagine what lunch was going to be like.

* * *

The next few days passed uneventfully. Tony woke up, made breakfast (terribly) did his chores around the cabin and spent the remainder of his day avoiding Steve until meal times, in which they both sat down and tried to eat (tried being the operative word there, twice they had to order takeout instead) Tony's culinary creations. Steve, for his part, seemed keen to avoid him too… as if they were both tiptoeing around the big elephant in the room. It was on the fourth day of their little routine, after breakfast, that Tony approached Steve.

"Hey so, is it alright if I go outside for a little bit? Get some air? I'm starting to go a little stir crazy in here." Tony rubbed the back of his neck, his stomach tight, as he waited for Steve's response.

Steve looked up from the morning newspaper, confusion wrinkling his brow, before something that suspiciously looked like guilt filled his eyes.

"Yeah, Tony. Hey, listen. About all that stuff. I mean, you can go outside or around the property whenever you want. There are some hiking trails too if you want to stick to the paths. Just make sure you're home in time for meals and your responsibilities are all taken care of. And don't leave the property. We have a lot of land here, so that would be pretty hard to do. But you're welcome to explore it whenever you'd like."

Was he supposed to feel grateful? Tony gave Steve a tight smile. "Thanks," he said as he walked toward the door.

"Oh and Tony, some of the wildlife can be aggressive so… if you're going on a hike maybe just let me know."

Irritation bubbled in his veins, but Tony tossed another smile that didn't quite reach his eyes over his shoulder. "Thanks Boss, will do."

It would be about 20 minutes later that he would discover what Steve meant about aggressive wild life.

* * *

Tony slammed the front door shut, ankles bleeding, and breathing heavy. He kicked off his shoes, face smeared with dirt, and made his way towards Rogers who was partially reclined on the sofa, a sketch pad in one hand and a piece of charcoal in the other.

"Aggressive wildlife, huh Rogers?" Tony plucked a feather out of his hair, brushing the dirt off his pants and onto the floor, eyes narrowing at the amused smile that hid inside Steve's eyes.

"I see you've met the chickens. They're feral. And a little mean. Try to avoid their territory the next time you go off adventuring."

"Feral chickens. Who has feral chickens, Rogers? Those chickens are little monsters, and worse, they're organized. A gang of heath-hens. Two of them tripped me while the colorful one-"

"The rooster?"

"Sure whatever, the Rooster pecked the shit out of my face and hands. Little ankle biters chased me all the way to the front porch. And you let me go out there with a 'some of the wildlife can be aggressive'. Yeah, no shit."

"You poor thing," Steve said through a smile, as he sat up from his reclined position. He set down his sketch pad before rising to his feet with a stretch. The smile faded a bit as Tony took a flinching defensive step back, putting distance between them.

Tony ran a dirty hand through his equally dirty hair, soft downy feathers jarred loose from the motion and drifted lazily to the floor.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower and try to pretend this never happened. I just want to make it clear I know this was a set up."

Steve smirked. "You think I set … feral chickens on you? Like a pack of wild dogs?"

Tony's eyes narrowed. "That is exactly what I think." Tony turned on his heel and stomped his way up the stairs, leaving a trail of dirt and feathers in his wake.

"I'll be in the gym if you'd like to join me later! Wanna stay in shape to keep ahead of those chickens!" Steve called up after the irate Tony.

"Shove it, Rogers!" Tony shouted back, from the top of the landing. He froze, trepidation in the line of his shoulders, a cagey wariness in his gaze as he turned down to look at a smirking Steven Rogers.

"See ya around, Tony." he picked up his art supplies and headed towards the basement. It was the one area of the massive house that Tony had yet to explore.

Maybe tomorrow. He was getting too comfortable. No sense in pushing his luck. He didn't know, yet, what Steve's boundaries were and which lines couldn't be crossed. Tony was sure he was going to stumble across them eventually.

* * *

The next morning, after breakfast, Tony went out for another walk. This time with an eye out for any angry, evil, flightless birds. The air was clean and fresh, the grass wet and dewy (apparently it had rained last night), and Tony tried to force his mind from the dark thoughts that had been hovering in his brain since he woke up this morning. He felt like things had improved so far with Rogers, but he couldn't be sure. There was definitely less aggression directed toward him. He wouldn't say they were friends or even necessarily friendly, but something about what had taken place the other night - that shameful humiliating night - had changed the dynamic between them. This morning Steve had even given him a tight smile and thanked him for breakfast. Tony knew exactly how that breakfast had tasted, so it was actually a kind gesture. He turned toward the mountain range in the distance, following the dirt path that led up from the lush green valley where the pack house was situated to the sloping hills that seemed to be calling his name.

Tony walked that path for a good hour before heading back, the muscles in his calves tight. He had worked up a good sweat, and lunch was due to be made soon, but he could afford to take a quick shower before he started desecrating the kitchen again. He entered the eerily quiet house, lost in his thoughts as he trudged his way up the stairs and to the small bathroom at the end of the hall. Closing the door behind him he stripped off his dirty clothes, letting them fall in a messy heap to the floor, before starting up the shower and getting in.

Tony let the hot water beat down on his shoulders, his hair plastered to his face as the steam billowed up around him. He took a deep breath, fighting to clear away the anxiety that was pulsing in his chest. How different would life be if he were born Alpha? Or even Beta? His hands fisted at his side as the familiar bitter fantasy played out in his head. There was no use dreaming about it, he knew, shaking his head to clear away the thoughts. He simply had to muscle onward. One foot in front of the other. Eventually the secrets he was sitting on would be uncovered and out, and as much as that terrified him the thought also brought a cleansing serenity in equal measure. He was sick of having what felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sick of carrying the burden of the secrets he kept.

A cool breeze stirred the air, and Tony lifted his head from the cold tile of the shower wall. The shower door was fogged up, and Tony swiped at the condensation to peer out into the bathroom. There was nothing there. Unease still had his shoulders stiff, the hair at the nape of his neck standing on end. With a muffled curse he finished his shower, shoving down the irritation he felt at having it cut short.

Stepping on to the bath mat and out of the shower two things became immediately clear. His instincts were correct. Someone had been in the room with him not too long ago. They were gone now, and so were his clothes. A quick peek into the bathroom closet confirmed that all the towels were gone too. Tony stood, dripping wet, on a damp bath mat and stared at the towel that had been left for him. It was one that he had never seen before but it didn't take a genius like himself to figure out what was going on here.

Revenge. The towel before him resembled the American flag. The corner of his lip twitched upward in genuine amusement. Despite himself a guffaw escaped. Nearly twenty years ago he had done this very same thing to Steve Rogers.

It had been after a home football game. Everyone knew that Rogers liked to take long showers and was often the last one to leave the locker room. Tony had snuck in with a couple of buddies, grabbed all the towels and clothes, and left a poor, sopping wet, Steve Rogers naked and vulnerable in the school locker room. Not that, at that point, Rogers could be considered vulnerable. He had already undergone the serum which had transformed him from a mealy, weak, sickly Alpha into what would become Captain-fucking-America. It was besides the point. Tony's aim had been to humiliate Rogers, and it had worked. When he came dripping out of the locker room the entire senior class as well as half of the school had been waiting outside. Rogers had grabbed the closest thing, the American flag that hung on the wall outside the locker room, and wrapped it around his hips while everyone laughed and took pictures, making cat calls. The fact that Peggy Carter just happened to be there had only sweetened the deal.

_"I knew you liked attention, Spangles, but I didn't realize you were this much of a slut for it. Poor little Brooklyn kid will do anything to turn a dime, huh?"_ Tony had drawled, smirking at the flushed and embarrassed Steven. He tossed Rogers clothes on the floor in front of him and a couple of dollar bills, knowing that his eyes shone with the malice that filled his heart. And like the utter jack ass he had been, he had walked away.

Shaking his head Tony grabbed the towel and dried off. He knew Rogers would never sink so low as to duplicate a highly embarrassing high school prank. Which could only mean one thing.

The Avengers were back.

* * *

Clint had been surprised to hear the deep belly laugh coming from the upstairs bathroom. He had anticipated a lot of things from the former tech mogul, but genuine amusement had not been one of them. Steve lifted his head from the map the group had been perusing, his head canted to the side as he too heard the laugh that echoed from the upstairs of the house. One brow winged upward in surprise. Apparently the packhouse had not been a happy homestead while they had been gone. Clint wasn't surprised. After everything that he had heard about Tony Stark, Clint felt bad for the Captain. Stark had a bit of a reputation, and a seedy past. The small humiliation of what Clint had just done was nothing compared to what the little shit actually deserved. According to Bucky, Tony Stark had gone out of his way in high school to bully Steve. The thing of it was, no one had ever understood why. Not even Steve. Some people were just rotten to the core. From the sounds of it, Stark was one of them. Did Clint feel bad about pranking an omega? Nope. Not a bit. That little shit deserved it. Had been born with a silver spoon in his privileged little mouth. Clint couldn't wait to rip it out. Welcome to the real world buddy.

Ten minutes later the unmistakable sound of bare feet padding down the stairs reached his ears. Between Bucky and himself, they had been able to snag every article of clothing that Stark owned and string it up between the two oak trees out in the backyard. Clint had been surprised at the lack of designer clothes. Just a few band shirts and plain tees that were riddled with holes and burn marks. The jeans had holes in them too, and it wasn't by design either. Hardly seemed like that clothes of a spoiled socialite, but then appearances could certainly be deceiving. As a spy no one knew that better than Clint himself.

Still, despite thinking himself prepared to meet Tony Stark for the first time, Clint found himself struck dumb as Tony sashayed into the dining room.

Yes, sashayed.

There was no other word for it. Spine straight, plump lips tilted into a smirk, the little shit strode into the shock silent room swinging his hips and wearing nothing but a towel.

Or, Clint amended with a brief flutter of respect and a healthy twinge of amusement, what was left of the towel. Tony must have found a pair of scissors somewhere up there. Olive skin was proudly on display, with only a small triangle of cloth covering up his crotch. The rest of the towel had been cut into a small cape that fluttered down his back.

"Morning campers!" Tony called cheerily as he strode through the room towards the kitchen, damp skin glistening and the little cape fluttering behind him. Clint's eyes snagged briefly on the scarred tissue around the newest version of the arc reactor in Stark's chest, cataloging the information for review at a later time. It was then that he realized the little shit hadn't just made a pair of panties, but an actual glorified thong.

Bruce choked on his coffee, Bucky snorted, and Steve looked poleaxed. Natasha of course, merely took a demure sip of her coffee and went back to reading the newspaper.

Clint couldn't help the short bark of a laugh that escaped him.

"I was planning on making grilled cheese sandwiches, anyone want one? No? Probably a good call. I'm a terrible cook. I burn most of everything, you can ask the good Captain. Well, I'll let you lovely people get back to your work." Whiskey colored eyes scanned the table before locking in on Clint himself.

"I suppose I'm going to have to go outside to find my clothes, yes? Somewhere up high? Ah, a tree, of course. I'd say clever but it's a little cliche, don't you think?"

His gaze snagged on Banner, and he gave the quiet scientist an open and friendly smile.

"Dr. Banner, your work on antielectron collisions is unparalleled and I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster."

Bruce looked uncomfortable. For many reasons. "Oh. uh, thanks."

And then the stuck up, spoon fed, too-smart-for-his-own-good little socialite turned on a trim heel, slapped his own ass, and made his way into the kitchen leaving a silent and shocked room of superheroes in his wake.

Clint leaned back in his chair with a cat-ate-the-canary grin as Steve let out a deep sigh.

"Life around here is never going to be boring as long as he's around." Bruce mused.

Clint looked up to see Steve pinching the bridge of his nose. "I appreciate what you guys are trying to do here, but if we could please not purposefully try to agitate my new Omega, that'd be swell."

"It's just Stark, Steve. 'Sides, that's the least he deserves for all that stunts he pulled in high school. Can't hide behind his Daddy's name now." Bucky muttered a lazy smirk curling on his lips, as his solemn and dark gaze turned toward the kitchen where Stark had disappeared to.

Tony paused on the other side of the wall, straining to hear Steve's response. He could have said a number of things. He could have told Bucky to back off, to leave him alone, but he didn't. Instead Steve said nothing and as far as Tony was concerned that… spoke louder than words.

* * *

Notes: Well, there's chapter 4! Hope you enjoyed it!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

The dynamic in the house changed drastically. The Avengers breathed life into the cabin, their squabbles and jokes ringing through the air like a tolling bell. There was constantly someone around whenever he walked into a room. The packhouse only quieted down late at night, after everyone had gone back to their respective homes. Sometimes there were sleepovers, but not often. Clint, perhaps, spent the least amount of time at the packhouse, as he had a family that lived about a mile up the road.

Tony had made that discovery quite accidentally when he was out exploring the grounds, eager to get out of the house that was quickly becoming suffocating. His eyes had alighted on the two story farm house in the distance, wide wrap around porch with a scattering of children's toys in the yard. There was a small pink bike with glitter tassels in the handle bars and a white wicker basket propped up against the porch, a blue one left haphazardly in the grass by the driveway. Baseball bats and soccerballs were left discarded on the porch by small, careless, hands. He could, even from a distance, hear the happy laughter of children playing, followed by the deeper cadence of Clint's voice. He was playing with his children, and it was clear that they loved him. Some unnamed emotion made his throat tight, his chest hurt, and his eyes prick. He had about faced, heading off into the woods in the distance instead of following the dirt road that would lead him past Clint's home and further up into the mountains.

He had spent an afternoon exploring nature, not dwelling on the more recent happenings of his life, and instead allowing his brain to overrun with concepts, upgrades, and formulas. His fingers itched for a computer screen, tablet, keyboard. Rogers had been adamant that he avoid any such pursuits.

"I've seen your twitter, Stark." Rogers said only that morning with an apologetic shake of his head. "And I get that you want to go online but our pack is still new and vulnerable. We really can't afford any bad publicity right now. The recommendation from the higher ups at SHIELD was to lay low for a little bit. Let this whole mating thing blow over. They don't want to give the media fuel to add to the fire, you know? If it makes you feel better you're not the only one who has to go dark."

Tony had ground his teeth together and asked for a tablet or laptop that did not have access to the internet. Something personal that he could just… use. For solitaire, e-reading, journaling or whatever.

Steve had given him an inscrutable look. "I'll look into it for you. I don't have anything like that here, but maybe Bruce can come up with something. Or even the IT guys at SHIELD."

Yeah, blow some more smoke up my ass, Rogers, Tony had thought vindictively. Tony was wise to the ways of Alphas, and he knew that (like a child) Steve was telling him maybe to avoid an argument. Not that they argued much. Tony was still unsure of his position in the pack. Hell, it didn't take a genius to figure out that he was at the bottom, but he wasn't sure what he could get away with yet. And after only a little over three weeks since the last incident… Tony wasn't feeling particularly brave enough to find out. So he had given Rogers a tight smile and nod, and backed out of the room. Opting to go for a walk instead. He would have to head back soon to start lunch… not that he was pulling huge crowds with his meals. For some reason, they just didn't seem to like his cooking. A smirk tugged at his lips. Considering that he could barely stand it himself, he could relate.

There was more work to do now that everyone was in residence. More meals to cook, more dishes to clean, more messes to tidy. In those early days it seemed like some of the Avengers, Bucky and Clint really, were purposefully making Tony's life at the packhouse harder. It was Tony's responsibility to clean the house, after all, and the house was suddenly filled with all sorts of things for him to pick up. On one such occasion, only last week, Bucky had "accidentally" dropped the entire contents of a Wheaties box (because of course, what other type of cereal would Captain America eat?) all over the kitchen floor._ 'Sorry, Stark. Butterfingers.'_ He had said with an apologetic smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he waggled his fingers, both flesh and metallic, in the air. Considering the alpha had the reflexes of a cat, Tony wasn't fooled. In high school whenever he had seen Rogers or Barnes walking down the hall with their arms laden with books, he and his cronies would slap whatever they were holding right out of their hands. _'Looks like you've got a case of the butter fingers there, boys.'_ He had sneered, chuckling with his friends as he left the lower classmen to try and pick up the mess he had created. It had been cruel. Tony had felt justified.

And so, without a word of complaint, Tony had merely gritted his teeth and picked it up, not bothering to argue or point out the obvious; that Bucky was just trying to humiliate and belittle him. After all, fair was fair. How many times had Tony done this to Steve and Bucky? The only difference being that he had been 16 or 17 at the time, and full of vitriol. On his hands and knees he swept up the little particles of cereal at Bucky's feet. When he was finished there was a flush of color to the Alpha's cheeks. Something that rolled across his eyes and looked an awful lot like shame. After that incident he hadn't had a problem with the winter soldier since. Maybe Bucky had been expecting a fight, verbal or physical, who knew? What he clearly hadn't expected was for Tony to just take the bullying quietly, as if it were his due.

There were still more tidying to be done with the Avengers in residence, though. Not that he minded. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do to fill his time. As a teenager he had been used to doing menial tasks like cleaning up after others, good practice for an upstart-omega his father had droned on more than one occasion, so it didn't really bother him. It just gave him time to think. Tony tried his best to stay out of their way. It was easier said than done. There were just too many of them.

Steve had started asking Tony to join them in the gym as they did training exercises as a pack. "It's a bonding thing, keeps us sharp, you're more than welcome to join us." Tony politely declined. Getting beat on by the world's favorite team of superheroes wasn't high on his to do list.

And then there was Natasha. She was a sneaky one, sidling up to Tony as he was chopping cucumber for a lunch salad he was making about a week ago.

"Hey there Stark, how are you adjusting to pack life?"

Tony's lips compressed into a thin line, his gaze darting up to meet hers then back to the cucumber.

"Hey there Nat, committed any corporate espionage lately?" he drawled lazily.

She smiled warmly. "I was wondering if you recognized me."

Tony turned and gave her one of his patented charming grins. "I'd never forget such a pretty, deceitful, face. Is there anything real about you? Do you even speak Latin?"

Natasha leaned closer to him, her hip pressed to his side, her voice soft as she whispered _"Maxime probabile semper occultus loca maxime secretum."_

"Which means? Wait, what did you just say?"

"I said the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places."

Tony snorted. She smiled, and it was one that held warmth and understanding. "You know, SHIELD sent me to find out the identity of a mutual friend of ours. You might've met him. Bright red-"

"And gold. Don't forget the gold. Those colors? Swanky."

Natasha nodded, her lips curled. "We were able to get his name, this scientist of yours, but he disappeared off the grid. Could be that he found out we were on to him. Could be because he's not real."

Tony paused in his mangling of the cucumber. He set the knife down, out of reach of the super spy, and turned to regard her levelly.

"What are you suggesting?"

"I think you know who Iron man really is. I think you had more to do with his conception than picking out the colors of the armor." She pressed her palm to his chest, fingertip tapping against the arc reactor that glowed a soft blue beneath his shirt. "Any chance you just wanna tell me about him? Give me a name?"

Tony reached up, wrapped his hand lightly around her tapping fingertip and pulled it away from his chest.

"You think I had something to do with designing the armor, huh? Thanks for the ego stroke. You know I love it when people stroke my ego."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I think you've been pretending to be someone for so long, you don't know who you really are anymore. It's one of those takes one to know one situations. So if you need to talk about anything, including Iron man, I'm all ears."

Tony smiled tightly. "I'm sure you are."

And with that she strolled out of the kitchen, hips swaying with deadly grace. Tony shuddered. That lady gave him the heeby jeebies. He had liked Nat when he had originally met her during his holy-shit-I'm-gonna-die phase. To be honest, he still liked her. He just didn't trust her.

Bruce was another story. For the most part the scientist kept to himself, only occasionally coming over to the packhouse unless for a training exercises that required his presence, and a meal or two during the week. He seemed to be a little stilted, a little withdrawn, from the rest of the group. Tony supposed when you could turn into a giant green rage monster at any second it was difficult to let down your guard and just hang. Tony could relate to that in a way, and found himself engaging the scientist in mild conversation whenever he was around. Well, mostly Tony talked while Bruce did his daily crosswords, but they had a camaraderie going, which was nice.

It was kind of lonely living in a house full of people who you couldn't talk to. Or, to be fair, didn't want to. And so instead of wandering aimlessly around the house, or sitting in his cramped little room - where he kinda felt like Harry Potter living in the cupboard, Tony walked and tried to avoid the thoughts and worries that crowded his mind by thinking of equations, algorithms, probabilities. Being lonely wasn't a problem for Tony. He was quite used to it. What he wasn't used to was not having anything to do. No problems to solve at SI, no workshop to get lost in, no Pepper to bicker with. He couldn't drink his problems away, there wasn't a drop of liquor in the packhouse because, trust him, he had checked. He couldn't bury his problems in booze and companionship and bad decisions. Though now that he thought of it, it wouldn't be that hard to make his own moonshine. Most of the things were already here, on hand. He'd just have to find a place to hide it. Maybe the old barn at the edge of the pack house property? It had been a part of the original property. The old house had been torn down to make way for the new packhouse, but they had kept the barn.

He sighed, watching the sun begin its descent in the sky. He had spent too much time out here in the woods, and if he didn't put some pep in his step then he was going to be late for dinner. Shoving down the irritation that was simmering in his chest he started back down the mountain before remembering about those damned menacing chickens. He had seen them on his way up into the forest, they seemed to migrate from the back field to the edge of the main trail that led up into the mountains, and he had only just narrowly avoided a confrontation with the little monsters on his way up. Now he was going to have to go the long way around to avoid being pecked bloody. Fool me once, and all that.

He started back down the mountain, straying off the marked path while considering making a sling shot and taking care of his little avian problem once and for all, when the ground shifted beneath his feet. With a grunt he tripped, toppling down the hill ass over teakettle before coming to a jarring stop when his stomach was sent slamming into the base of a tree. The incline of the mountain was steep, and luckily Tony hadn't gone too far up otherwise that would have hurt a lot worse.

"F-fuck." He wheezed, jaw clenched and head tilted back slowly to stare up at the sky. He gave himself a minute to just feel the burn, the pulsating pain, before he tried to move.

Sitting up, slowly and gingerly, Tony groaned at the bruised feeling in his ribs. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as old memories assaulted him. He shook his head. He wasn't in Afghanistan anymore. His ribs were likely bruised, not broken, and it was a tree and his own sloppy footing that had done him in, not a captor's boot or fists. Pushing away the panic attack, Tony gathered his strength. He couldn't stay in the woods all night like a little damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. He could only imagine Steve's reaction at having to come and find him. What other amenities could be taken away from him? Maybe he'd be locked in the attic. His chest constricted at the thought.

_'If you're planning on going for a hike...just let me know.'_ Steve had said that, hadn't he? He needed to get back, the sooner the better. Maybe no one would notice dinner was late. Maybe they would be thankful...his dinners _were_ terrible.

Getting to his feet slowly, Tony groaned again. His ankle was a hot throbbing mess. Likely a minor sprain, which would make hiking back down the hill even more difficult.

"Perfect." He muttered, casting about for a sturdy stick to lean on. He needed to brace himself against it to ease the weight off his bad ankle. It took him a few minutes of crawling around on the forest floor to find what he was looking for. It was a large branch that split into a V shape, Tony snapped the excess twigs off so he was left with a makeshift crutch. Testing it out and finding it sturdy enough to bear his weight, Tony nodded. There would be no going the long way around to avoid the hens. He needed to stick to the main trail, chickens be damned.

Getting down the mountain and through the woods was grueling with a sprained ankle and bruised ribs. By the time he had reached the bottom he was drenched in sweat and the sun was dipping beyond the horizon. He could hear the soft, tentative, clucks of the feral chickens in the distance. His jaw ached from gritting his teeth. He was tired. Dirty. Bruised. All he wanted to do was stop and just rest for a bit, but fear of what would happen if he wasn't back in time kept him pushing stubbornly onward. A sudden rustling of feathers had him looking up.

Tony groaned.

Standing in a clear line across the path were the heath-hens. There were six of the little bastards, and they were all eyeing him with what Tony considered to be a malicious intent.

"Look guys," Tony started, standing stock still, and suddenly feeling every single scrape and bruise from his fall down the mountain "I'm not going to lie to you. I've had an awful day, I'm in a lot of pain already. Let's just call it a truce for now, okay? Just let me go, and I'll make sure there's some corn in for you. No? Strawberries? Lettuce? Bread?"

The chickens of course, did not respond. What was he expecting? Bracing himself, Tony hobbled his way forward, surprised when they moved out of the way, and then astounded when they fanned out around him in a circle. He had an avian escort. Of sorts. Whatever, weirder things had happened in his life. He wasn't going to look askance at this one.

"Kinda far into the woods for you guys, don't you think?" Tony murmured conversationally, glancing up at the darkening sky with concern. He was maybe a 5 minute hike from the entrance, 10 with his hobbled ankle. Dinner was usually on the table by now. He was so screwed. How was he going to hide a sprained ankle? It would work out, it wouldn't be the first time he had to cook with injuries, he reminded himself. If he could make a souffle with two black eyes he could barely see out of he was sure he could make a stir fry with a swollen ankle. A brief glance at his clothes made him sigh again. It looked like he had been rolling around in mud.

"Tony!"

He flinched as the sound of his name echoed through the woods. He felt his heart stutter, and then he sighed. He had been gone too long...they were looking for him.

"Tony!" Steve's voice bellowed again, getting louder as he drew closer.

"Over here!" Tony shouted back, resigned to his fate.

Steve paused as he rounded the bend in the trail. His body was rigid, primed, his blue eyes sharp and cutting as they took in Tony and the flock. Steve tapped a com unit in his ear. "Found him, meet me back at the packhouse." Some unnamed emotion wrinkled his brow, his lips parted, but before he could say anything Tony held up a placating hand.

"Look, I'm sorry. I lost track of the time, I had an accident. I was on my way back, it won't happen again."

Steve blew out an irritated breath before making his way toward him. A part of Tony wilted, wanted to cower, to bear his neck in submission to the obviously agitated Alpha. Tony ruthlessly beat that part down and met Steve's snapping blue eyes stare for stare. If he was going to get throttled he was going to do it while standing his ground. _See, I'm not scared of you!_ Except that there was a fine tremor working its way up from his knees to his belly. Steve blew right through his chicken guard, who scattered with what sounded like outraged hisses and clucks as he bowled through them. Did chickens hiss?

Tony couldn't help his instinctive flinch as Steve reached for him, but instead of the blow he had been anticipating, he found himself up ended and flung over Steve's shoulders. He let out a soft groan as his stomach made contact with the hard, broad shoulder of his Alpha.

"What the hell?" he gasped, ribs protesting the sudden movement.

"Do you have any idea," Steve began after a little while, in a calm voice that belied his actions, long strides eating up the ground as he about faced and made his way out of the woods and back towards the packhouse. "How worried we all were when you didn't come home? The entire pack is out looking for you right now. I told you to tell me if you went hiking, Tony."

Tony gritted his teeth through the pain. "I'm sorry," he groaned, his breath short. Steve paused, mid stride, at Tony's pained groan. Slowly, carefully, he lifted Tony off his shoulder and set him on the ground in front of him, his gaze assessing.

Blue eyes narrowed in concern on Tony's dirt streaked face. "Aside from your ankle, are you hurt anywhere else?"

Before Tony could answer or deflect, and he most definitely would have deflected, Steve's hands were on him. Tony startled at the touch, the warm heat of Steve's coarse palms running up his arms and down his back with a firm measured pressure. When his thumbs grazed his ribs, Tony sucked in a pained breath. Blue eyes flickered up to meet his, the concern there evident.

"Let's get you back to the packhouse and have Bruce take a look at you." Steve murmured. "Do you want me to carry you, or do you want to walk?"

A flush of embarrassment pinkened Tony's cheeks and he instinctively shook his head in denial. "I can walk-"  
Tony found himself scooped up again, but this time Steve was carrying him bridal style. It was embarrassing. One arm went up to wrap around Steve's shoulder.

"Geez Rogers, a little warning would be nice. I mean it, I can walk."

Steve snorted. "You're obviously in pain, Tony." Steve's voice came out hard, gritty. "And apparently I can't trust you to be honest with me." Cautiously Tony tilted his head back to stare up at the Alpha holding him. Steve was a hard one to peg. He never knew where he stood with the Alpha. With Howard and Obie, things had been pretty cut and dry. Was Steve mad? Tony hated that he didn't know, but staring up at his Alpha's hard blue eyes and clenched jaw made Tony think maybe Steve _was_ mad.

"I mean, yeah, okay. So I fell down and I hurt my ankle a little bit-"

"And ribs." Steve added, his voice carefully bland and clipped.

"Okay and my ribs a little bit. But it's not going to stop me from doing my chores, so don't worry about that. It's _not_." There was an almost pleading lilt to Tony's voice, "I can, I can still cook and clean, and I - look it's not gonna stop me from pulling my weight around here. I might just do it a little slower, is all. And I can..next time I'll let you know if I go hiking…" Tony choked off as every one of his words just made Steve's eyes narrow and jaw clench tighter and tighter. He had the distinctive feeling he was digging his own grave.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Steve all but growled as he climbed the steps to the pack house, and shouldered the front door open. Tony tried to wriggle out of his arms, but the steely bands wrapped around him wouldn't budge. He breathed a sigh of relief when Steve walked into the kitchen. It was almost a welcome relief, knowing where he stood in this pack. Familiarity breeds comfort and all that, even if what he was familiar with was shitty by any stretch of the imagination.

Steve lowered him to his feet by the island countertop in the kitchen.

Shaking a little, and trying to hide it, Tony turned and headed toward the refrigerator, his steps awkward and heavy.

"Would you _sit down_." Steve growled, scooping Tony up and physically depositing him onto a stool.

Tony froze, wide eyed, as Rogers made his way toward the pantry and returned with a first aid kit.

"For goodness sake, Tony. No one expects you to cook dinner tonight. Just...stop talking. And don't move. Everything you say just… makes me mad."

Tony ducked his head, not fighting his instincts this time as he bared his neck. Everything he was doing was wrong. He sucked at this. Steve was going to revoke privileges. He wasn't going to be able to go to the city and he only had another week left...

Steve let out a breath that hissed out his nostrils and through clenched teeth. Tony flinched. Steve pushed away from the counter, away from Tony and walked toward the sink. Tony listened, eyes averted and neck bared, as Steve turned on the water.

"I am not mad at _you_, Tony." Steve grit out, after a few minutes of brittle silence. Tony startled as Steve began to gently wipe at his face with a damp cloth, eyes narrowed as he checked him over for scrapes and bruises. "You must've hit your head here." he murmured, probing at the sore area gently. Tony tried to jerk away, Steve wouldn't let him.

"Hold still," he commanded in that Alpha growl. It was guttural, dark, and instinctual. He doubted Steve realized he was using it. Still, it made Tony freeze and flush. He sat quietly while Steve cleaned up his face, bandaging the small scrapes. Tony let out a sigh of relief when the clatter of the rest of the crew came through the house.

"We're in here!" Steve called over his shoulder. Tony tensed, ready to get up, but Steve laid a firm hand on his shoulder, pinning him in place.

"Sit still." he turned as Clint, Natasha and Bruce walked into the kitchen. "Bruce, I think Tony might have broken his ribs. Can you take a look at them?"

As Bruce headed over Tony was quick to add. "They're bruised, not broken. I'm fine. Everything is fine, you can stop this… whatever it is." He flapped his hands at the intractable Steven Rogers, who was giving him the strangest look out of the corner of his eye. "Just let me up, I'll make dinner and we can all forget this ever-"

"What did I tell you about being quiet?" Steve growled. Tony visibly shrank. Bruce was shaking his head.

"Hey buddy, we were worried about you. Glad Steve found you. Do you mind if we take off your shirt, I'd really like to check your ribs."

Tony's eyes darted up, defiantly, to glance at Steve before meeting Bruce's gaze. "They're bruised, not broken." Tony reaffirmed.

"Well we can't be sure without an x-ray but-"

Tony rolled his eyes. "I know what broken ribs feel like, these are bruised. Couple ibuprofen and some water and I will be right as rain. No sweat, Doc."  
An awkward silence filled the kitchen, before Bruce cleared his throat. Steve was looking anywhere but at him. Both Clint and Natasha were staring at him as if he were a pet that had just peed on the carpet. Bucky chose that moment to walk into the kitchen with a 'what did I miss' expression on his face.

"Ah, yeah, well, all the same. If you wouldn't mind?"

With a sigh, Tony gripped the bottom of his shirt and gingerly pulled it off. His chest was slick with sweat and dirt, forest debris. He glanced up to see everyone's eyes fall to the blue glow of the arc reactor in his chest. He was used to it, so that didn't bother him too much, but it was the way that their eyes traveled across his torso that had Tony feeling like a bug under a microscope.

"You know, I don't usually take my clothes off unless I'm getting paid for it." Tony couldn't help but snipe, his teeth clicking shut as he cast a cautious glance toward Steve. He shouldn't have bothered. Captain America was studiously staring at the wall across from him as if his gaze could cut through it if he tried hard enough. Apparently his snideness was enough to get the rest of the crew moving. They left the kitchen, leaving Tony alone with Steve and Bruce.

Tony yelped at the sudden press of fingers on his bruised ribs, but quickly clamped his lips shut. He sat in silence, enduring Bruce's too thorough exam. Moving when he was told to move, breathing deep when he was told to breathe. Bruce checked him over from top to bottom.

"Tony is right. He's got some bruised ribs and a sprained ankle. That lump on his head is a little concerning. We'll give him some ibuprofen, or if the pain is bad I'm sure we can get something a bit stronger too. We need to elevate that ankle, and ice it. I don't want to wrap his ribs for a bruise, it's only going to make breathing harder. We don't want him to get pneumonia. He will need someone to wake him up every 4 hours tonight to make sure he isn't concussed."

"Got it, thanks Bruce."

Bruce left the room. Tony sensed he didn't go too far. Like the others, they were probably waiting in the living room or the war room. Unease drifted up Tony's spine. Were they giving Steve privacy? And why?

"Do you want to take a shower or a bath before I wrap your ankle?"

Tony shook his head.

Steve knelt on the ground at Tony's feet. "Your pants are filthy, you might as well take them off."

The color leached from Tony's cheeks. "R-right." Awkwardly his hands began to tremble. Which was stupid. Steve wasn't going to hurt him or anything. He _knew_ that. He did. And still his stomach was tight with nerves and his fingers trembled as they worked the snap of his jeans. Tony jerked as Steve's calloused hands brushed his away. He made quick work of shucking a wobbly Tony out of his stained and worn clothes. He was left sitting in a stool in his black boxer briefs, cheeks flushed, as he looked anywhere but at Steve who was still kneeling on the ground at his feet. Steve made quick work of his ankle. Wrapping it up with a practiced ease as if he had done it many times before. He got up, and Tony let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging, only to groan as Steve returned with yet another damp dish cloth. When he began to quietly but firmly stroke down his arms and chest Tony squeaked in indignation, swatting Steve's hands away.

"I fell, Rogers. I'm not an invalid."

Steve chuckled, surrendering the rag without a fight.

"Hey Bucky, you want to grab Tony a pair of sweatpants and shirt?" Steve called.

"Unless you bought him clothes since the thong fiasco, he doesn't own a pair of sweatpants. Just some jeans and old band shirts. You want me to give him some of your clothes?"

Steve turned to regard a still flushing Tony. "Yeah… that's fine. Thanks Buck."

"Why… why are you doing this?" Tony gritted out, cleaning the forest debris off of himself with quick efficient strokes.

"Doing what?" Steve moved across the kitchen, fetching a glass that he filled with cold tap water. He ruffled through the first aid kit, finding some ibuprofen.

Being nice. Acting like you care. But Tony didn't say that. Instead what came out of his mouth in the most aggressive tone he had used with Rogers since this whole thing began was:  
"I can take care of myself, you know."  
Tony's shoulders were hunched, arms crossed defensively over his chest. Steve glanced at him from the corner of his eye, his lips twitching upward slightly.

"To be honest Tony, it's an Alpha thing. You're my omega. You're just going to have to trust me on this. You're my mate, even if we haven't consummated that part, and a part of my pack. I don't like it when you're hurt or hurting. I especially don't like it when you're afraid and trying to hide that you're hurting from me. It makes me… frustrated. Not at you, just, it makes me feel like I need to… I don't know. I'd just really appreciate it if you did us all a favor and tonight just let me take care of you."

The skin at the nape of Tony's neck prickled. He turned away to hide the confusion that was doubtlessly written across his face.

An alpha thing huh? Tony mentally scoffed. Every Alpha he had ever known had never been interested in taking care of him. But maybe Rogers was different. Who knew?

His musings were cut short when Bucky strode onto the room and deposited the clothes on the counter next to him before leaving. Tony wasted no time in getting dressed, he didn't want Steve to start doing that for him too. He was done with being coddled. He wasn't a baby, damnit.

And then Steve was handing him his medicine, grabbing a bag of frozen peas, and then scooping Tony up _again, damnit_, and carrying him into the living room where the rest of the team was waiting.

He was placed on the couch while Bruce and Natasha piled pillows for his ankle to rest on. Steve sat next to him, forcing Tony to lean against the Alpha, while Bruce put the peas in a towel and placed it on his ankle. Bucky and Clint were arguing over what to watch, while Natasha sat at the far end of the couch and rolled her eyes. The guys finally settled upon Star Wars revenge of the sith. Pizza was ordered, popcorn was shared, and Tony fell asleep to the sound of Chancellor Palpatine commanding the clone troopers to execute order 66.

* * *

Steve glanced down at the slumbering Omega tucked next to him, his face lax with sleep. Soundlessly the team looked up and made eye contact with Steve. After everything they had been through together, the battles they had seen, they needed no words. Each and every one of them had been disgusted by the scars that littered Tony's body. Evidence of the abuse he had sustained. Was it all from Afghanistan? Steve didn't know much about what had happened there, to be honest. He knew by Natasha's pointed look that she was intent on finding out more than the barebones information they currently had. He knew that Tony had been kidnapped, that had certainly been all over the news, and had resurfaced months later in a suit made by a scientist named Yinsen that would become the framework for the Iron Man suit. What had Tony endured in those months of captivity? Was that what had put the wariness in his eyes, the flinching obedience? Had he ever received help or counseling?

For the first time the team was forced to view Tony not as who he _had been_, but who he currently **was**. Over the past few weeks Tony had kept mostly to himself despite Steve's many attempts to draw him into pack activities. Tonight he hadn't given Tony a choice. He had all but forced the Omega to sit down and lean on him, surrounded by the strongest members of the pack. Within the first five minutes he could see the tension leave the Omegas body. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Tony needed a pack to lean on. Just as they all did. Steve intended to give him one. He still wasn't Tony's biggest fan by any stretch of the imagination, Tony was too sarcastic and prickly and secretive for that, but he found he no longer harbored the same resentment he once had toward the Omega.

They would be leaving Tony behind in a few days for some routine training missions, ordered by Director Fury. Steve didn't want to leave the vulnerable omega behind… perhaps Laura and the kids could come by and check on him while they were gone. Did Tony like kids?

There was so much he didn't know about Tony. But he fully intended to find it all out.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

The next couple of days were perhaps the most confusing of Tony's life. Okay well, that was patently untrue. Tony had done and gone through a lot of crazy shit in his lifetime. Still, those days left him scratching his head, his shoulders tense with unease. That first night he was woken up every 4 hours by the gentle press of Steve's strong fingers against his cheek. Tony wasn't much of a sleeper. There were too many nightmares and too many memories that returned to him when he closed his eyes. So when he _did _have a restful sleep he was not a fan of being woken up _every four freaking hours. _He had grumbled, lips turned into a pout, and turned his body away from the chuckling Alpha while he buried his face into his new favorite pillow. It would be the next day that Tony realized that his new favorite pillow happened to be Steve's abs.

_'Okay, Tony. Okay.' _Gentle amusement had colored Steve's voice. Tony fell asleep to hesitant fingers carding through his hair.

The next morning Tony awoke, a little stiff and sore, but otherwise well rested. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so well. Groaning, he sat up and stretched, wincing when he pulled on his bruised ribs. His head cocked to the side at the smell of bacon wafting through the air. It made his stomach go tight, rumbling gently. Was someone cooking breakfast? Unease wormed its way through him. It was his job to make breakfast. If he allowed someone else to do it… would he still be allowed to go into the city? He was a little over a week away from his goal. He had been biting his tongue and keeping his head down and if anyone thought a little sprained ankle and bruised ribs was going to stop him from his trip they had another thing coming. It was god damned necessary. Tony flung the blanket off of his lap where it lay curled and bunched. Slowly he heaved himself up on his own two feet before setting off toward the kitchen. It was slow but steady progress. He made it halfway across the living room before Steve strode around the corner, shaking his head.

"You are the most stubborn…" Steve muttered under his breath. Which was rich, coming from him. A yelp escaped him as he was _once again _scooped up into Steve's arms and carried around the house like a toy poodle. Tony was unceremoniously dropped off in front of the downstairs bathroom door.

"There's spare toothbrushes in the closet, and probably whatever else you might need." Steve said as he opened the door to the guest bathroom as if to usher him inside.

Scowling, because he _so _did not appreciate being treated like an invalid, Tony cocked a hip (nearly toppling over in the process) and met Steve's eyes boldly.

"You're sure you don't want to do that for me too? Think my ankle might be too sprained for me to do it on my own." The sarcastic words fell from his lips before he could think to stop them. Memories assaulted him then. He remembered a much younger version of himself popping off at the mouth to Howard. He hadn't been able to help himself then either. His fingers ghosted unconsciously up to his mouth, as if pressing against the phantom of the fat lip Howard had given him on more than one occasion, while he turned his head and offered his neck in submission.

Steve chuckled. "I mean, if you need help, I'm more than happy to oblige-" His strong hand wrapped gently around Tony's arm, guiding him toward the sink. Tony jerked free, making slapping motions at Steve until he backed off and got out of the bathroom.

"Come into the kitchen when you're done." Steve called over his shoulder, a subdued laugh in his voice, as he quick walked back to the kitchen.

"Smart ass," Tony mumbled, brows pulled down into a scowl as he brushed his teeth and washed his face. At some point today he would need to take a shower, but first he needed his coffee. Nothing came before coffee.

After finishing up in the bathroom Tony quietly slipped out and made his way toward the kitchen, this time unaccosted by well intentioned Alphas. He made it no farther than the dining room when Steve once again came bustling around the corner with two plates in his hands.

"Take a seat Tony, I made breakfast this morning."

Tony's fingers wrapped around the back of the chair as he leaned against it for support. His eyes narrowed.

"Coffee…?"

Steve set the plates down, one in front of him, and the other directly across the table, before he turned back toward the kitchen.

"Sit down and I will grab you a cup."

Tony eyed Steve dubiously before shaking his head and taking a reluctant seat at the table. He sat quietly, with a plate full of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him while Steve brought out a mug of coffee and the creamer. Closing his eyes Tony wrapped grateful hands around his mug and took a sip. It wasn't as good as the way he brewed his own, but it wasn't half bad. In all honesty he had been expecting worse - or at the very least the crap he had been serving Steve.

"Thank you," he mumbled, eyes still closed as he savored the freshly brewed coffee. Steve snorted and soon the sound of silverware clinking against china filled the quiet of the room. Once Tony was finished he set down his mug and opened his eyes to meet the amused gaze of Steve Rogers.

"Not much of a morning person, are you?" Steve murmured, blue eyes tracing the furrow in Tony's brow, the stubborn jut of his lower lip.

"More of a night owl." Tony sighed, contemplating getting up to grab another cup of coffee. He looked down at the breakfast Steve had prepared for him. The eggs were fluffy. The bacon crispy. Everything looked perfect. Because of course it did.

He drummed his fingers against the table and worried his bottom lip between his teeth. When he looked up it was to see Steve with a mug halfway to his lips, a pale brow arched in question.

"Is this going to count against me? I could have made breakfast still." Tony muttered, stubbornly. "I mean maybe there's something else I can do so that I can still-"

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair as he took a fortifying sip of his coffee.

"Tony, the only thing I want you to focus on is relaxing and healing. Doctor's orders. I will still take you to the city." Steve's voice sounded tight, with a thread of disappointment laced through it. Disappointed in him? In the situation? Was he mad that Tony couldn't do his chores or that Tony _wanted _to do his chores?

This not knowing was getting old. Tedious. Tony longed for the days where he had no one to answer to but himself. No one to disappoint, not really. Did Pepper count? He loved Pepper, and more than once she had leveled him with the very same look that Steve was shooting his way now. And of course Rhodey. Tony guessed he was just destined to disappoint those closest to him.

"See that? Whatever you're thinking? Stop. And eat your breakfast, it's getting cold." Steve set his mug down, scooping up his empty plate as he got up from the table.

"The rest of the team is going to be here shortly. We're going to run some drills outside and could use your help."

Tony's brows winged upwards in surprise. "What could I possibly help you with?"

Steve paused, full lips turning upwards into a smirk. "You're gonna be the bad guy."

Tony snorted, amused, as he motioned towards his wrapped ankle. "You guys sure don't like a challenge, huh? Do you also steal candy from babies? Kick puppies? Steal the towels from hotel rooms?"

Steve chuckled. "I think everyone has taken a towel from a hotel a time or two."

Tony mock gasped, clutching at his neck. "Captain _America!" _he sounded scandalized.

Steve shook his head at Tony's theatrics. "Don't worry, you won't be in any danger. We need you to sit on the side lines and control the remote discs. They fly and shoot lasers. I mean, not enough to really hurt, but it can still sting."

Tony cocked his head. "More's the pity. But why me?"

"Well, you're clearly free, and Clint is under the impression that you'd be a natural at this. Something about Mario Kart."

Tony rolled his eyes skyward. You critique a guy in passing _one time _and now all of a sudden he could take on the avengers?

"He had smart steering on. That is _for children, _Steve _. _It's like bumpers on when you go bowling. Training wheels on a bike."

Steve stifled a smile. "All the same, we'd sure appreciate your help on this Tony. It would be good to not have an automated practice session. They're getting kinda predictable."

Tony pressed his lips together. That's because they were using SHIELD tech. Give him a day and the right tools and he could come up with an autonomous, self learning, tech that would really put them through their paces. But he couldn't do that, could he? A hot flare of frustration shot up within him. Instead he merely nodded.

"Sure, sounds fun."

And it was fun. Tony enjoyed playing the villain to the pack. It had taken a couple of rounds for him to get used to the controls. He had about thirty of the little flying, laser shooting, discs. The pack had set up a "training" ground, complete with barriers and fences out in the middle of the field, about a quarter of a mile from the pack house. The "controller" for the discs was as big as a keyboard, and the least intuitive thing that Tony had ever had the misfortune to stumble across.

Playing the villain was _fun. _At first they seemed to be going easy on his little laser shooting discs. Lazily dismantling them or sending them plummeting to the ground. Black widow had, at one point, hopped from one to the other to make it to the finish line, like using rocks as stepping stones to make it across a lazy river. The folks at SHIELD had told them that the training discs were virtually indestructible. Maybe for a bunch of regular folks, or special ops soldiers, that would be true. As it was the Avengers had to be _gentle _lest they render the discs broken and useless. Even Hulk had sat down, criss cross applesauce, chin resting on a fisted hand as he lazily batted them away as if they were annoying flies.

Tony was a pretty safe distance away. The objective of the avengers was for all of them to get from one end of the field to the other without being shot by a laser. By the end of round two, Tony was ready to turn up the heat. He hadn't managed to land a single shot. And in all honesty, it was purposeful. He wanted to gage their fighting style, how they moved across the field. Where they were weakest. He wanted them to underestimate him.

"I was expecting more from you Tony! Where are those villain like tendencies I've hear about!" Clint called from atop a barricade made of broken wood and ladders. Natasha was sitting on a hay bale, one knee tucked up to her chest and foot swinging freely as she shook her head.

"He's doing fine, Hawkeye." Steve admonished, waving them back to the starting point. "Let's go again. Maybe we can just do two at a time if that's easier for you Tony?"

Aww. Steve was trying to be kind. Tony ducked his head to hide the smirk that was forming on his face.

"Whatever you think is best, Alpha!" Tony called in a cloyingly sweet voice. Demure, even. Natasha immediately sat up straighter, emerald eyes bright with sudden interest.

Steve turned to study him quietly, broad hands planted on his hips. A minute of inspection passed by agonizingly slow. Tony would be a liar if he said that it didnt affect him when Steve did that. As if he actually _saw _Tony for who he was. Having that gaze turned on to him made him feel like a bug beneath a magnifying glass. Tony blew him a kiss and batted his eyes. Sure he was planted in a reclined position on a lawn chair, sprained ankle propped up by folded blankets and the controller/keyboard spread across his lap. He looked helpless.

Steve's eyes narrowed before an easy smile spread across his face.

"Alright guys, let's all take it from the top. One more time."

Hmm. Interesting, Tony thought as he watched Steve in his Captain America get-up stroll back to the starting point. It seemed Steve refused to underestimate Tony, at least in this.

"You ready, Tony?" Bucky called out, arms both flesh and metal crossed over his chest. His pose relaxed despite the threat of the laser discs. Tony threw his head back and gave his best maniacal evil villain laugh. He even threw in a twist of his imaginary mustache.

"Let us begin!" He thundered in his villain voice.

As the Avengers tore across the field, Tony directed his discs toward the rushing superheroes. The objective was for _all _of them to make it across. He laughed, delighted, at Clint's curses as ten of the discs broke formation and targeted him specifically. Dodging and sweeping, determined not to lose his precious discs to Hawkeye's arrows, Tony divided and conquered. He had the discs flying in complicated, weaving, patterns. All twenty of them came together to form a solid unit that pummeled the arrow wielding avenger in the stomach before breaking apart and scattering. Clint was sent flying backward, skidding across the grass. Natasha paused atop a barricade, an amused smile on her face as she sent one of her widow bites after a low swooping disc, destroying it and sending it careening into the disc behind it.

"Looks like Hawkeye needs some back up!"

The team turned back around, and Tony delighted in sending the stinging laser beams dancing their way.

"You...little...shit…"Clint grunted as he tried, in vain, to dodge laser beams.

Tony threw his head back on another over-the-top laugh. "You have controlled your fear. Now, release your anger. Only your hatred can destroy me."

The collective groan from the field in front of him let him know that his Vader quote had not been well received. Oh well, maybe they needed more. Tony was having fun. As the avengers fought off his discs, he peppered the battle with some memorable star wars quotes.

"Now, young skywalker, you will die."

"Power! Unlimited power!"

"Give yourself to the Dark Side. It is the only way you can save your friends!"

"You don't know the power of the dark side!"

By the end of that round he had burned a big S into the back of Clint's vest that was still smoking. Steve had been pegged twice, once in the shoulder and again in the right buttock (because how could he _not). _The Winter Soldier had been shot twice in his metal arm, dead center in his forehead, and once in the upper left thigh, perilously close to his groin. Natasha, he had managed to clip only once on the ankle as she dove for cover - she was a slippery one. The round had ended only when Hulk had become enraged with the flying discs that repeatedly shot lasers at him because, well, he was a big green easy target. He had stormed across the field straight at Tony, roaring so loudly it shook the ground. Wide eyed, Tony had tried to scramble away.

"Easy buddy, it's just a game!" Tony rolled off the chair and did an awkward crab walk backwards and away from the big green monster that was charging toward him.

"Hulk!"

"Stop!"

"Stand down!"

The pack's shouts did nothing to deter him, and they were too far away to stop him. Before he knew it Hulk scooped him up in one large fist. His feet dangling in the air, brown eyes wide as he stared into the familiar green face that twisted with annoyance and anger, Tony swallowed thickly.

"Easy there big guy," Tony's neck lolled to the side, submissive. "It was just a game, for practice, for training. I'm sorry if I upset you." Tony whispered, projecting meek and submissive into every muscle in his body. Despite the strong grip and the perilous distance between his face and the big green one scowling at him, Hulk didn't tighten his grip. He didn't shake Tony or try to hurt him. Instead he brought him closer, hot breath fanning against Tony's neck as Hulk inhaled his scent.

"Omega, pack. Smell like friend." Hulk grumbled.

Tony nodded his head almost comically fast in agreement. He looked like a bobble head doll on the dash of a jeep going 4 wheeling. "Yes, Omega. Friends."

"Fight good, Omega." Hulks other hand came up to pat the top of Tony's head gently. Well, gently for Hulk. It was still jarring. Tony felt it all the way down his spine.

"Th-Thanks."

Hulks nostrils flared. "All done now. No more fight." he said in an admonishing tone. He set Tony gently on the ground and ambled away.

Tony's hand came up to clutch at his stuttering heart. "F-fuck." he whispered as a grinning Steve ran up to him.

"Good work out there Tony. Sorry about Hulk, he goes off script sometimes."

"No shit." Tony gasped breathlessly. "I thought he was going to eat me."

Steve blew out a hard breath. "You know, for a second there, I did too. Seems like he knows you're one of us though." Steve reached a hand out and mussed Tony's hair. "Welcome to the team, Omega."

Tony was too shell shocked to bat the affectionate hand away. He didn't even protest when Steve scooped him up _again _and walked him back to the cabin.

"Well that was fun. We on again for tomorrow?" Natasha called out as Clint cursed behind him.

"He shot me like forty times in the back. FORTY TIMES."

"He got me in the forehead. And almost the balls." Bucky grumbled. "Oh hey, you have a big S on your back. Ha, for Stark." Bucky chuckled.

Tony turned his face into Steve's shoulder as he choked back his laughter.

Steve turned his gaze down to stare at the giggling omega in his arms. "You know, you're not half bad, Tony. You're just full of surprises."

That seemed to make the smaller man chuckle harder. "Oh, Rogers, you have _no_ _idea._"

Tony enjoyed the next few days with the pack. He especially enjoyed giving them a run for their money with a depleting army of laser discs. He was surprised to find that he was disappointed when Steve told him they would be going away for a few days to continue their training with SHIELD.

"Don't worry Tony. I'll be back in time to take you to the city. I haven't forgotten." Steve promised, ruffling his hair again. Tony batted away his hand, finger combing his hair back into a semblance of order.

"I'm holding you to that, Rogers."

"Clint's family should be by tomorrow to check on you, see if you need help with anything."

Tony rolled his eyes. Steve was worse than a mother hen.

"Thanks_ Mom _, I think I can handle being on my own for a few days. I promise not to throw any ragers. And we only got the pony drunk that one time."

Steve sighed, shaking his head, and jogged down the front steps. "Be good Tony!"

"Be safe, Steve!"

He watched silently, arms folded across his chest and shoulder planted in the jam of the door, as the pack climbed into their various vehicles and left him behind.

With a sigh, he made his way back inside, closing the door firmly behind him. The quiet of the packhouse pressed down on him, oppressive. Using his crutch that Bruce had given him, he limped inside and toward the touch screen on the war room. He paused, debating.

"Fuck it." Bringing his wrist up he pressed a series of buttons, twisting the dial until a holographic control screen popped up.

"A Quiet Place Protocol." Orange beams cut across the floor, up the walls, and to the ceiling as Tony moved slowly from room to room, scanning in a grid.

"All clear sir, no recording devices detected." The crisp cool voice of his AI had Tony breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief.

"Missed your voice, Jarvis." Tony said heavily as he made his way back to the touch screen that had been tempting him for the past month. "And I yours, sir." Jarvis intoned as Tony connected his watch to the touch pad, uploading his AI into the cabin's sad excuse for a security system. It was time to make some much needed upgrades. After all, when the Alpha was away, the Omega would play.

Notes: Hey guys! Long time no type! I hope everyone is hanging in there with this covid-19 pandemic going on. I know my house has been crazy! Long story short, it looks like I probably wont be able to post as frequently as I have in the past. So my apologies for that! I had big plans for this chapter. Huge. It totally veered off into a different direction. Things happened that were not planned. *shrugs* But don't fear my friends! I have explanations and angst coming up in the next few chapters. Poor Tony :( As always I apologize for spelling errors and grammar. I went through it a few times and fixed what I could but I'm sure it's still riddled with errors. And I super duper appreciate your continued support and your lovely reviews that always make me smile and laugh! You guys are the best. Thank you for the kudos! Hoping you and yours stay healthy during this pandemic. 3


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

Tony wasted no time in making all the technological improvements he had been longing to make for weeks. He just couldn't help himself. Ideas had been percolating in his brain for _ages _, filled with potential, and his fingers had practically cramped in an effort to keep them away from that damn touch pad. The second the Alphas were out of the house? All bets were off.

He and Jarvis worked through the rest of the day updating the pack's security system, Tony reclined back in one of those fancy swivel chairs in the war room, legs propped indolently up on the table while he munched on an apple. It took a few hours but he let his decryption program do the work while he worked on security protocols for the cabin. They combed through SHIELD's database (the idiots had left a backdoor...but it still took a few hours) and added a few extra protocols to the cabin, beefed up the Avenger's security so to speak. Tony couldn't help but look up his file on the SHIELD server. Prior to his coming out as Omega, there had been no hint to indicate that they had suspected his second gender. There was, however, a whole file on the possible identity of Iron Man. The scientist Dr. Arty Noth, his education and work profile, all the projects he had or was suspected to have his fingers in, and his subsequent disappearance when Iron Man came on the scene was all there to be found. Tony had to give Natasha credit, it was impressive what information she had been able to ferret out of his company. He consoled himself that it had only happened because he had stepped down as acting CEO. It wasn't as if he had trusted her with any vital information. Tony's entire life had been built around a lie. Secrecy was the name of the game and so far he was undefeated. He spent a little time cruising through the team's profiles, then on to Pepper's and Rhodey's. There was nothing in here that he didn't already know. But it was always nice to keep tabs.

"Apparently I'm volatile, self obsessed, and I don't play well with others." Tony bit into his apple viciously. "What do you think, J?"

"I'm certain I couldn't say, sir."

It felt good to have Jarvis in the house, to hear the comforting droll tones of his favorite AI, even if he was a sarcastic little shit.

It was getting late, and Tony was starting to feel the weight of the day, hell the month, bearing heavy down on his shoulders. Stifling a yawn he slid his feet off the table, wincing slightly when he jarred his sprained ankle.

"Well, I think I'm going to call it a night, J."

"Goodnight, sir."

Tony walked out of the war room, the door hissing shut behind him. He limped his way over to the couch, bypassing the stairs that would lead up to his closet, cough, bedroom. He wasn't in the mood for stairs, he told himself stubbornly. It had absolutely nothing to do with Steve and the rest of the packs' scents being strongest in this room. The lights dimmed as he settled onto the couch. Pulling the throw blanket over himself, he curled up with his face pressed deep into the pillows, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Tony tilted his head back to stare up into the rafters of the old barn. Stale hay and a musty earthy scent filled his nostrils as dust motes drew lazy circles in the air. Sunlight splintered in through the gaps between the boards, striping the walls and floors with golden light. There was a fine layer of dust coating the entire place, as if it had been years that anyone had set foot inside the barn. The floors were made of packed dirt and covered with rushes that were in desperate need of a change. The barn had clearly housed horses at some point if the dilapidated stalls off to the left were anything to go by. There was a rickety looking ladder that led up to a loft that Tony wasn't sure he trusted. The wood was old, the planking ancient, and termites or wood rot was a real concern. An old tractor, eroded in some places and covered in a sheet of rust so encompassing that Tony couldn't tell what color it had been originally, was left abandoned in the middle of the barn.

This, Tony decided with a pleased smile, was his. Clearly the rest of the team didn't want it. It was isolated, large, with plenty of nooks and crannies. Yes, he thought with a decisive nod of his head, the barn would become his domain. It was the perfect place to hide his moonshine and whatever other project stirred his fancy. Already he was running numbers, thinking of ways he could fortify and remodel the barn to suit his needs. It would be a workshop. He could even start on that old tractor. Wouldn't that be a project and a half? He could make it solar powered and autonomous. He hobbled his way through the barn, leaning heavy on his crutch, and favoring his bandaged ankle.

He spent the afternoon and late into the evening in the barn, exploring every nook and cranny, and beginning the long and arduous process of cleaning the place out. He didn't let his still tender ribs or sprained ankle stop him. Tony was well versed with working through the pain, and had always possessed a single mindedness that would put a bullmastiff with a beef rib bone to shame. Tony was delighted to find a tack room full of tools. The barn was full of potential, nothing a little elbow grease wouldn't fix.

He could probably get the majority of the work in this place finished before Steve and the rest of the team got back. Shit. The Barton family was supposed to come over and check up on him. Tony's lips flattened in irritation. He didn't need a babysitter (well, most of the time), he wasn't a child damnit. Ripping off a piece of an old cardboard box, Tony found a sharpie in the tack room and with the cap clenched between his teeth he scratched out a hasty note. He limped over to the barn door with a hammer and nail, and pounded it into the old wood.

There. That should give him some peace for a little bit, at least while he was in here. Tony worked for the rest of the day cleaning up the barn. His only company while he worked was the heath-hens, his avian alliance, as he had not yet been able to set Jarvis up here. It would require some wiring on his part, which shouldn't be a problem, but it would have to wait until tomorrow. The heath-hens muddled around underfoot, fluttering their wings and ruffling their feathers as they explored the old barn with him. He didn't mind them so much. They were persistent little bastards, following him around wherever he went, squawking and pecking at each other in his wake. It was his own fault really. He had taken to feeding them in the morning. Scraps of lettuce and whatever fruit he had on hand. He had made them a promise that day in the woods. Tony tried his hardest to keep his promises.

If it looked ridiculous for a fully grown man to have an avian escort, literally traveling around in the center of a flock of chickens, there wasn't much he could do about it. He had tried. The chickens seemed to have accepted him as one of their own. What being adopted into a crazy flock of feral chickens said about him as a person, he wasn't sure nor did he want to explore. He could almost imagine the needling he was going to get from the Avengers about this, and bit back a mortified groan.

When it grew too dark to see, and his muscles were protesting, Tony shuffled his way back to the house, narrowly escaping the chickens who kept trying to follow him inside. He wondered where they slept at night...and if it was safe from predators. Though, honestly, those chickens could give anyone a run for their money. They were probably the biggest predators around here. Still...maybe Tony could make space for them in the barn. Or a coop. Didn't chickens sleep in coops? Tony kicked off his shoes and flopped down onto the couch. He had been avoiding what he jokingly referred to as his "closet under the stairs" and had been opting to just pass out on the couch, curled up beneath the warm fleece throw that was usually folded in the corner. Well, he slept there when he could sleep. Something about being alone in the house was stirring up old fears that he had thought were long forgotten. Memories, both painful and sad,came to life whenever he closed his eyes. His sleep was riddled with nightmares. When he woke up, gasping for breath, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes, and fighting off enemies who weren't there, Tony decided that sleep was overrated. So he went without.

He threw himself into his barn project, had repurposed the pressure cooker and some other odds and ends to make his homemade moonshine, and most of his free time was spent laying on his back underneath that old tractor. Tony finally had something to fill his days other than cleaning and cooking and pandering to Steve and the Avengers. He should be elated. He should at least feel relieved. But there were bags under his eyes, dark like day old bruises, and he couldn't help but feel a cagey sort of wariness as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had been days. The team should have been back by now. Where were they? His jaw tightened with unease. He only had so much time before he _needed _to go to the city. And Steve had _promised. _

Hours later Tony was elbow deep in rusted old machine parts. It had been five days since the pack had left for their training mission in a "top secret" location - which was somewhere in Germany. Yeah, the war room and it's SHIELD basic security system had not taken him any real, meaningful, amount of time to hack. Garbage tech was what it was, Tony thought with a disgusted shake of his head. That was still two days past when Steve said the team would return. Tony threw himself into projects to distract from worry. How long could this training mission possibly take? Should he check in to it?

He was in the process of dismantling the engine piece by piece so that he could clean it, upgrade it, and put it back together again. It gave him something to do during the oppressively quiet days that seemed to start to blend together. At first it had been a relief to be alone. There were no prying eyes, no probing questions, no looks shot from the corner of discerning eyes. But as the days began to pass Tony began to grow bored, restless. Sure he could find plenty of things to do to occupy his time. There was the barn, after all, and the wiring. He needed to replace some of the beams and eventually it would need a new roof. There were also some security protocols that wouldn't hurt from a little tinkering here and there.

And yet Tony found himself looking around the house at the end of the day, ears straining for the heavy tread of familiar footsteps, the gentle bickering and easy banter of the team as they ribbed one another.

His body was hot, flushed, his thoughts becoming disjointed and shaky. Rather than dwell upon what that might mean, Tony threw himself into his work with a single minded determination. Steve _had _to come back. He just had to. He had _promised. _ Tony had been so freaking good. He had bit his tongue till it bled, he had ducked his head and been respectful when all he wanted to do was lash out. Frustration filled him, he lost his rhythm with the tractor and his thoughts. Things that usually came natural to him were foggy and disjointed.

Tony cursed, hand groping blindly toward where he had left his tools...just out of reach. He was on his back, laying on the hard pack ground of the barn, looking up at the monstrosity that was this dilapidated old engine and cursing himself for ever taking on this project.

"Need...the 3/8ths...socket…" Tony grunted, then froze when the wrench in question was pressed gently into his palm. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when he was in the middle of a work project, Tony took the proffered wrench and got back to work.

"5/8ths…" The next wrench was pressed again into his upturned palm. Heh. He could get used to this.

More time passed quietly as Tony worked, completely absorbed. Sweat beaded across his brow, his chest glistening, wife beater sticking to him like a second skin. Randomly he called out tools and, without fail, said tool would be placed into his outstretched palm. Tony finally came to a point in his work where he could pause. He wriggled out from under the tractor, knowing he looked a fright with his sweat flushed and grease streaked face, and met the wide eyes of his assistant.

A young boy, maybe 12 or 13 years old sat next to the tool box. Worn jeans with a hole in the knee, black converse sneakers that were streaked with dirt, and a gray striped t-shirt. He had shaggy brown hair that had been allowed to grow too long, and his father's bright blue eyes.

"Ah, smaller agent. So we finally meet." Tony grunted, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He got to his feet slowly, grunting at the slight pull on his bruised ribs. Amusement twisted his lips as the younger Barton scrambled to his feet handing him his crutch.

"Thanks, kid. Did you see the sign? On the barn door? The door you had to walk through to get here?"

Barton's kid nodded. "Yes Mr. Stark Rogers, I did. Sorry to intrude and all, but Mom was getting worried about you being cooped up in the barn all day. Besides. The sign says omega's only zone...and, well, I'm an omega."

The sign actually read "Omega's Only Zone, all others Keep Out!" He had even done his R backwards and drew on a skull and crossbones for good measure.

Tony turned to regard the young Barton fully, an eyebrow arched. The boy sighed, running a hand up and down the back of his neck. "Yeah I know. Dad's an Alpha, Mom's a Beta. No I'm not adopted, it can happen, you know?"

Tony nodded slowly. It was true that although unlikely, an Alpha and Beta could theoretically produce Omega offspring. Generally speaking, Omegas were rare and usually produced only through Alpha and Omega couplings. Poor kid had hit the genetic lottery, huh?

"Well, welcome to the club house kid."

"Cooper. My name is Cooper Mr. Stark-Rogers. Are you, uh, feeling okay? You look...flushed."

Tony nodded as he limped over to the tool bench.

"I'll be right-as-rain when Rogers gets back. Gotta go to the city to get…" he paused, glancing over at those wide blue eyes and open face. "Medicine."

Cooper nodded. "You mean like suppressants? I have some at home if you need them. Mom and Dad got them for me last year to have on hand… you know, just in case. It's, uh, gonna be a bit until they get back you know. There was some sort of situation and… now Dad's not sure when he's coming home."

Tony froze. Every muscle in his body clenched painfully. No! No! That couldnt be right, Steve had fucking _promised _he could have this trip. He needed his meds. He had people to see, people that were counting on him, people that wouldnt understand when he didn't show up.

Tony clenched his fist and sent it slamming down onto the work bench. "Shit!"

He was on the verge of going into his first heat in 15 years. He would have already had his heat suppression shot and pheromone blockers by now. The shots were...special. Made and manufactured just for him and he'd been on them since he was little more than a child. Who knew the medical ramifications of discontinuing them? "Fuck." Tony spun, rubbed his hand across his mouth, his expression worried.

He glanced down to see Cooper on the ground, one of the heath-hens cradled in his lap as he idly stroked a small, gentle, hand down it's feathered back.

"Traitor." Tony scoffed. "No more kitchen scraps for you."

Cooper smiled shyly, ducking his head. "They never bother me. But they go after Dad and the rest of the pack like crazy. Dad's always threatening to make chicken soup out of them, but I don't think he really would. I like them too much."

"Well, at least they have taste." Tony said idly. This was a clean, obviously well loved kid. The chickens were still around simply because the boy enjoyed them - even though they were clearly a nuisance to everyone else. What would it have been like to grow up like that? To have a father that cared about you, protected you, wanted you to be happy?

"Are you keeping them in the barn?"

"Here? Them?" Tony blew out a breath. "Absolutely not. No this is a chicken free zone. A haven, a workplace, a-" a quick glance around showed that all six of the chickens had made their way into the barn and were putzing around. Making him look bad. Like some sort of pansy. Tony sighed.

"Maybe you should build them a house then." Cooper offered quietly. "A coop?"

"Do I look like a carpenter to you, kid?" Tony groused, leaning back against the workbench and crossing his arms over his chest.

"No, but you don't look like a no good, pretty boy, social- social-"

"Socialite?"

"Yeah, that. You look like a mechanic." The boy's piercing blue eyes bored into him, his head cocking to the side much like a golden retriever's would.

"You look like you could figure it out. You know, smart."

Tony pursed his lips. "Did the chickens send you? Are you the chicken emissary? Sent here to distract me into taking care of the chicken overlords? Butter me up with all those sweet nothings?"

Cooper smiled. "I could help you, you know. We could go back to the house - mom is making lasagna and a garden salad - get the suppressants and," he shrugged sheepishly. "Build them a chicken coop."

Tony let out a long suffering sigh. "Fine. But you keep that smart thing to yourself. And what happens in the barn stays in the barn, got it? It's an Omega thing, we've got to stick together."

Cooper gave him a big grin and gently shooed the chicken off his lap as he got up and gave Tony's hand a firm shake.

"Definitely."

* * *

"So what are their names?" At the blank look Tony shot him, Cooper clarified, "of the chickens?"

Tony shook his head. "Well, over there is One, and that green one with the grudge is Two,"

Cooper chuckled before shooting Tony a very-serious look. "Mr. Stark Rogers, they _need _names. You can't call them by numbers."

"Tell you what kid, why don't you name them?"

Cooper shook his head, long hair flopping over his eyes. "They are _your _chickens, you should name them."

Tony eyed the flock of chickens that were pecking around the yard. It felt good to have completed a project, even if that project was something as small and simple as a chicken coop. Of course, no project of Tony's could ever be considered simple by any layman's stretch of the imagination. He had managed to make solar panels on the roof of the coop that powered lights to scare predators away at night, and also powered the automated door. Cooper and Tony had built the chicken coop so that it closely resembled the packhouse. It looked like a smaller scale version, complete with the wrap around porch. The idea had been Coopers, and the delight that shone in his eyes as the project came together had filled Tony's chest with warmth and another emotion he couldn't name.

"I can't wait for Dad to see this," Cooper said with a chuckle. "This looks so cool!"

Tony smiled, but it was a little brittle around the edges. The days were beginning to bleed together in an endless stretch. His skin felt hot and stretched tight, need clawing at his belly with razor talons. Although the heat suppressants that Cooper had given him had helped, they did not eradicate all the symptoms. How could they? Tony had been on a much higher quality suppressant for over a decade. He felt raw, inside and out. He also didn't have any pheromone blockers. Tony was not used to having his every emotion broadcasted to the entire world to scent. He hated it. Hated how vulnerable it made him feel. Like an open wound that refused to scab over.

Laura had been very sweet and understanding, even offering to go to the city and get his suppressants for him. But sending out the heavily pregnant Beta to go into a rather dangerous part of New York to fetch him his medication had rubbed Tony the wrong way. He simply couldn't ask it of her. If anything ever happened to her… Tony would never forgive himself. So he gritted his teeth and doubled the dose on the medication - hoping that would help. Hoping his heart did not give out on him.

Feeling hot, Tony wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, eyeing the finished project with pride. The chickens lived in a house that looked the same as the one the Avengers lived in.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Oh yes. He had just thought of names for the chickens. The smirk morphed into a pained grimace as a sharp, cutting, cramp tore across his abdomen. This was going to be a long week.

* * *

"What do you mean there's an issue?" Steve questioned dangerously. Had Tony hurt himself? Hurt someone else?

"Your mission went two weeks past when you said you'd be back," Laura intoned dryly. "Tony missed his monthly trip into the city."

Covered in dirt, face and arms streaked with blood, Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes. So Tony didn't get to go to the city and it was the end of the world out on the farm? That wasn't fair, Steve knew, admonishing his knee jerk reaction with a sigh. He reached a hand up to cover his eyes as he massaged his temples. A promise was a promise, and he had broken his.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It was… out of my control. Just tell Tony I will take him as soon as I get back, we can go to whatever store he needs to -."

"Doctors" Laura interrupted. "He needed to go to his Doctor. He's an Omega, and he's on a monthly injectable heat and pheromone suppressants."

Steve stilled, "Are you telling me that Tony is in heat?" To go into heat without an Alpha around… and the first heat in what Steve could only assume would have been years… it would be very difficult, very trying, on an Omega. Tony could be _suffering _right now because of his shortsightedness. God he was such a shit Alpha sometimes that-

"No, no. He's not in heat. I had some old suppressants that I gave him. Nothing he's used to, I'm sure, but it seemed to do the trick."

Steve blew out a hard breath. "So what's the problem, Laura? Sounds like you've got everything under control?"

There was a weighty pause from the other end of the line. A silent admonishment perhaps?

"He's been on pheromone blockers since he was thirteen years old, Steve. I don't have those here, obviously. Most people don't use them because most people have nothing to hide. The ones he's on mask his scent and his emotions. He's so used to hiding who he is and what he's feeling and now he's...exposed. He's been… hmm, not well is an understatement. Or maybe he's always been like that and now we can sense it? I don't know. I'm just worried and I wanted to give you the heads up, just in case."

"I appreciate that Laura, thank you for letting me know."

* * *

"Better luck next time," Steve laughed as he shouldered his way into the packhouse, Bucky on his heels. He felt the smile slide from his face as the scent of the quiet, dark, house reached his nose. Beneath the pine and lysol scent of cleanliness was…

_Omega _

Was that Tony? It was everywhere in the house. Steve breathed deep, taking the scent deep into his lungs, his hindbrain dissecting it into bite sized pieces for his olfactory senses to chew on. The smell of coffee, machine oil, with a darker scent, somewhat smokey burning...like the fire at a forge, underlying it. It was… it smelt _good. _Surprisingly good.

His eyes scanned the dimly lit house, taking in the disarray. There were children's toys, belonging to Clints kids his brain supplied, scattered across the living room floor. A stack of magazines on the coffee table in disarray. The dining room table was littered with newspaper and… glitter? It looked like Tony and the kids had made an art project of some sort.

The kitchen was mostly clean but there were a few dishes in the sink, pans left to soak overnight. Eyeing the toaster and the microwave, Steve sighed. Victims of Tony's culinary prowess, they lay in pieces on the counter. What was he trying to do? Fix them? Amusement warmed Steve's chest as he pictured the slight omega bent over the counter, screwdriver in one hand and that worried frown puckering his brow.

He headed up the stairs, towards the bedrooms, where Tony's scent was strongest. He followed his nose to the bedroom he had assigned Tony and gave the closed door a brisk knock. It was later in the evening but not late enough that Tony should be sleeping.

The door didn't open. Silence greeted him.

Steve could hear the rapid beating of Tony's heart. The soft rustle of clothing shifting. Was he being ignored? The Alpha in him didn't like the thought of his Omega ignoring him, but he understood why Tony was upset.

"Tony? It's, uh, me. Hey, look I'm sorry I couldn't be there to bring you to the city. Laura told me… that she helped you out a bit with what you needed. We can go tomorrow if you still need something. I didn't mean to break my promise to you. If I had known...well, I could have arranged for someone to take you."

Dead silence met his apology. Steve sighed, shoulders slumping, and rested his hand against the flat of the door.

"Good night Tony."

He walked down the hallway, foot step faltering at the soft "Goodnight Steve." that had not been meant for his ears. Smiling, he shook his head and made his way down the stairs.

Tony waited until both Alphas had gone to bed before sneaking out of his hidey hole. He couldn't sleep in the small, cramped, room that Steve had assigned him. He much prefered to sleep on the couch downstairs, where the faint smells of pack surrounded him. There he could curl up into a ball on the couch, face pressed into the soft pillows, and just… pretend. Pretend he belonged. Pretend that he was safe. The nightmares were always worse when he was alone. The scent of pack was usually enough to keep them at bay. The scent of safety. Even if it was an illusion, it was one that Tony was going to grab on to with both hands and never let go of. He was so exhausted. He had not slept for days. The nightmares had driven him away from even attempting to catch some rest. Instead he usually just headed out to the barn to work on the tractor or whatever else had tickled his fancy. He could no longer do that with Steve in residence. Well, he didn't think he could anyway. Something in his gut told him that Steve would frown upon that. Just the thought of Steve's displeasure was enough to make him cringe and hunch his shoulders.

He tiptoed down the stairs, covered in a cold sweat that stuck uncomfortably to his skin. His heart was racing in his chest as he made his way to the couch and buried himself in his usual spot beneath the covers. With two Alphas in residence he should be able to sleep better...right? With that thought Tony drifted off into a fitful sleep plagued with nightmares.

* * *

Someone was grabbing him, shaking him, a large menacing shape covered in shadow. Terror had his throat spasming even as his body reacted instinctively to the threat. Years of training had Tony doing a sweeping block followed by a series of front snap punches to what he hoped were target areas. Tony was attacking blind, his terror riding him, as he knocked his assailants hand off of his shoulder. Groping blindly, Tony rolled to his feet and grabbed the half glass of water on the coffee table. Without thought he sent it smashing into his attacker's face. Satisfaction curling inside of him like a lazy cat at the sound of a pained grunt.

"Tony! Stand down!" The Alpha growl ripped through the room.

Tony froze, heart in his chest as a number of things became clear to him. The first and foremost being that there was no attacker. Standing before him, cradling the side of his sopping wet face that was littered with glass shards, was one clearly stunned James Barnes. The second thing that became apparent was that Steve, already making his way down the stairs from the loft, had witnessed the altercation. There had been no attacker. Only a bad dream.

_A dream of a small dark cave, in Afghanistan, the hard biting heat. Having his chest fucking carved out and being attached to a car battery that could be taken away and ripped out of his arms, at any second. Being so fucking vulnerable. Being plunged face first into filthy water with his arms held behind his back, his legs kicking for purchase and finding none... the hard hand at his neck holding him there until his lungs were crying for air, until he was choking on water, until he wished he could just die and get the whole ordeal over with. But they never let him. The series of concussive blows that rained down on his legs and ribs and stomach. Hearing his ribs break, snap apart like twigs. Begging for mercy, begging for it to stop. He would do whatever they wanted. Rough hands pulling him up by his hair, forcing him to his knees. When they discovered he was an Omega… And then, as was the way of dreams, his attacker had changed, and it was Howards familiar face that had loomed over him, ripping at his chest. Howard's fists that had fallen in heavy blows on his face and stomach. The belt. Being told to kneel, handed the belt that he was going to be beaten with, expected to press his lips to the leather and to thank his Alpha for the much needed discipline. Tony hated to be handed things... _

Tony felt nauseous. Sick to his stomach.

"I wasn't trying to - I was just - he was having a bad dream!" Bucky muttered from behind him. "I didn't realize...damn, Stark."

And then his knees were giving out, taking him into a shaking puddle on the floor. Where he belonged, the memory of his dead father seemed to sneer at him from the dream that still lingered so real and heavily in his mind. As if he were to close his eyes and it could overtake him again, it was so close that he could reach out and touch it. His fingers curled into the plush area rug beneath him, his body trembling in remembered pain, and a new fear.

He had dared to attack an Alpha. It simply wasnt done. Not ever. Not from an Omega. Not in the Stark household anyway. Tony wanted to cry out, plead his case, but he knew it was indefensible. He had heard how angry Steve was, had heard the Alpha growl from up the stairs. His whole body shuddered in memory at the sound that had ripped through the room and stopped him in his tracks. He remembered how Howard had disciplined him. How strong he had thought his father's arm was at it sent the belt crashing against his vulnerable skin. How much more would Steve's beating hurt? He wrapped his arms around his middle, pressed his forehead to the floor and turned his head, baring his neck. A full body tremble worked down his spine, making his teeth chatter and clack together painfully. A soft keening noise, like a wounded animal, was echoing in his ears. It took him a minute to realize it was coming from him. He wanted to beg for mercy but couldn't force the words out of his mouth.

"Tony? Oh no, hey, no get up it's okay." Steve's voice came from close by, and Tony couldn't help his instinctive flinch. He scuttled backward frantically, until his back was pressed against a wall. Terror had made his tongue taste like copper, choking him, as he hugged his arms to his chest and bared his neck. He was drowning in fear, he realized, as surely as he had once drowned in that filthy water in the cave in Afghanistan.

"I'm sorry. It was a dream. The dreams are, they're bad and getting worse and I just…" Tony choked on the words running in a rush out of his mouth, too wound up from the dream and the fight to be able to think straight, to try and calm his racing heart.

"Shh, Tony, hey, it's okay. I'm not mad. You're okay, no one is mad." Steve's warm hand landed gently on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Tony flinched under the hot heat of Steve's palm.

"S-sorrysorrysorrydidntmean-"the senseless litany was falling from his numb lips on a sob that he was trying his damndest to keep from escaping. He squeezed his eyes shut at the tell tale prick and burning rush in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, ducked his head, and pressed the heels of his palms into his closed eyes. His entire body was shaking uncontrollably with fear and emotion. He was an emotional fucking dumpster fire right now. His suppressants had helped him keep these feelings at bay. They had made him fucking Elsa, conceal don't feel. Shame warred with terror as scaldingly hot tears escaped the corners of his tightly shut eyes.

"I'm sorry just… I need…" he had been about to say a minute. Give me just a minute to throw the lid on these feelings, to cram them back down and seal them up. He felt so vulnerable, like an exposed nerve, pulsating and raw and he just needed a second to…

Tony startled, a high pitched yelp escaping him, as Steve lifted him up off the floor and into his arms. Tony froze at the biting warmth of being pressed tight into Steve's chest. He could hear the steady thumping of his Alpha's heart, became wrapped in the comforting scent that was Steve. He closed his eyes, as Steve's hand cradled the back of his head and neck, pressing Tony's ear over Steve's heart, the other one stroking soothing circles up and down his back.

"It's okay Tony, I've got you. No one is mad. You're okay. You're having a panic attack. We are going to breathe together okay? I want you to do what I do, take a deep breath." He felt Steve's chest rise "and then breathe out…" Tony tried to take choking breaths, guided by Steve. Later he would feel ridiculous being cradled on the floor, Steve sitting criss cross applesauce with Tony curled up in his lap like a lost little kitten.

"There you go, just like that."

Tony closed his eyes, felt some of the tension leaving his shoulders and chest as Steve stroked firm but gentle circles up and down his back, murmuring soft words of encouragement. Tony didn't know how much time he spent sitting in Steve's lap, the steady beat of Steve's heart an anchor, his hands an unexpected comfort. Tony couldn't remember the last time he had been held like this, comforted, certainly not since he was a child. Perhaps his mother or Jarvis?

He felt hollowed out, wrung dry, a fine tremor started in his hands and arms. What was he doing, crying on Steve's shoulder like this? What must he think? Gritting his teeth he started to pull away, to try and put distance between himself and his Alpha. His eyes snapped open when Steve's grip tightened around him marginally.

"Tony, I… I need to hold you for a little bit. I'm sorry." Steve's voice was tight. Startled, Tony tilted his head back to look at his mate. Steve looked… haggard was one word for it. There were lines of tension around his eyes, bracketing his mouth. "If you need me to let you go… I can.. I can probably manage that in a second. But if you wouldn't mind, maybe you can just stay here for a minute."

Confused, Tony relaxed back into Rogers' hold, acquiescing to his request. They sat in silence, listening to the other's ragged breathing, bodies pressed together. After a time Tony's eyes fluttered shut, lulled into a feeling of safety and security by the heat of his Alpha's strong arms wrapped around him, by the hand that ran up and down his back in soothing circles before carding gently through his hair. Tony fell asleep to the feel of soft lips pressing against his forehead, cocooned in Steve's arms. There, for one of the first times in his life, Tony felt...safe.

* * *

Steve looked down at the sleeping Omega in his arms, blue eyes bloodshot and pinched with worry. Tony's hand was fisted in his shirt as if refusing to let Steve go even in sleep, the lines of strain and stress had melted away from the omega's face, smoothing out and making him look years younger. Steve could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, the hollowed cheekbones. Tony had lost weight since they had last seen each other and it had only been a couple of weeks. Had he forgotten to eat? What was going on with his omega?

Guilt ate at him then. Steve should have known, should have suspected, should have asked Laura to stay in the pack house with his Omega instead of just checking in on him. She had told him that Tony had withdrawn, even from Cooper, in the last week. Shutting himself away in the barn or the small room at the end of the hall. The small room Steve had given him over a month ago certain that Tony would have thrown a Diva fit. Not once had the Omega complained or asked for better accommodations. What an ass he had been, Steve mused, pulling Tony tighter to his chest. First thing tomorrow he would move Tony into the room next to his.

Steve frowned, his forefinger smoothing over Tony's eyebrows, his cheeks, the straight and stubborn tilt of his jaw. Steve had no idea what had happened to Tony since high school. He realized for as much as he once thought he knew this man… he really didn't know anything about him. Everything he thought he knew needed to be called into question. How much of Tony's personality had been fabricated? A mask to hide behind? What was real and what wasn't? There was so much about Tony that he didn't know. What were those nightmares about? Just like Bucky he had been awoken to the sounds of Tony's soft, guttural, fear moans so had Steve. He had been on his way down the stairs when Bucky, whose room was closer, had tried to wake Tony up. Watching a sleep fogged Tony attack with a viciousness and ease that belied training, had shocked Steve as much as it had Bucky. His omega could _fight _and he knew how to do it on an instinctive level.

And now here they were, two grown men, mated and strangers to each other in every sense of the word. They were slowly learning each other but there was a gulf between them, full of things unsaid and secrets kept. Steve had to find a way to cross that gulf. For both of their sakes.


End file.
